


Theft of a Heart (I know this much is true)

by heathtrash



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: 1980s, Broomhead in the background, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, POV Alternating, Teen Years, confinement plot, some meal skipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24714655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heathtrash/pseuds/heathtrash
Summary: Cackle's, 1986. Hecate Hardbroom is the least popular girl in the school, and she has a major problem. Her familiar, Morgana, is doing everything kittenly possible to make life difficult for her by stealing from other students' dormitories. Little does Hecate know, these items belong to none other than Pippa Pentangle, the queen of the Fourth Form. Pippa Pentangle, meanwhile, is intrigued by the mysterious cat who keeps appearing in her dormitory.
Relationships: Hardbroom/Pentangle (Worst Witch)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 96





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hecate struggles with the dilemma Morgana dumps in her lap, in the shape of Pippa Pentangle's house sash.

“ _Morgana!_ ”

It had not been the first time that Hecate had been interrupted in the middle of her homework by her familiar bringing back a “gift”. She had never quite outgrown her kitten fluff, and even now, at four years old, looked like a rambunctious little scamp snaking around the door, her long fur ruffled and a prize clamped in her sharp little teeth.

If it were a mouse, Hecate could deal with it—but she knew already from a glimpse of a metallic sheen that it was something much worse.

“Morgana, you can’t just go around the dormitories _stealing_ from other witches. It’s against the Code.”

Hecate stood up from her desk, sighing with exasperation as she wondered what it was her familiar had “foraged” for her this time. She crouched down by Morgana, who deposited her gift before her mistress. 

It was a lovely purple fountain pen, but it was no more identifiable than the veritable hoard of items Morgana had gathered that term, since quite a lot of witches had similar pens and Hecate did not pay much attention to them. At least it was something small—tights were a favourite—Hecate would pick them up with a pencil and sling them down the corridor out of her way—but Morgana would also bring hair scrunchies and small stationery items, like rubbers (apparently the cuter the shape, the better) and fuzzy pencil toppers in the shapes of familiars that were quite the fad that year.

What had made it all the more awkward was that Hecate was really not the kind of person who could be comfortable knocking on everyone’s door with a cardboard box of pilfered belongings asking if anyone had lost anything recently. She would never own up to having a notorious thief for a familiar.

Hecate had a reputation by now of being the world’s most stuck-up witch. She defied all the latest hair crazes and refused to use a single accessory to ornament her simple high bun. Nothing but the plainest black pins to blend seamlessly into her hair would she use, while the other girls were excited to experiment with new hairstyles each day—she had overheard her teachers sigh and say that they were “getting to that age”. Hecate was mature, though, and none of that was important to her, and—well—she was just _different_ to the others. While many of her classmates would sneak into each other’s rooms and sing into hairbrushes, pretending to be the next hit chantress, Hecate would purse her lips and try to deaden the sound with warding spells as she scratched her pen nib rather too forcefully across the page.

Hecate had been working on a resolution that meant she did not have to interact with anyone to return the stolen items. When Morgana stole something innocuous, it could always be something that someone lost or forgot—unexplained disappearances that always happened around school, especially when magic was concerned. Hecate had used the Fourth Form common room’s Lost and Found box quite liberally, sneaking in early when no one would be around so she would not be seen or suspected of being involved in the theft.

* * *

However, a few days after the pen, Morgana stole something that froze Hecate’s blood cold. This was no frog-shaped rubber or hair clip that could have belonged to anyone. It was clearly identifiable—it was the head of year sash for the Fourth Form, with the gold trim showing brightly against the purple sash of Wolfsbane. There was only a single girl _that_ could belong to.

 _Pippa Pentangle_.

Pippa Pentangle was one of the most beautiful witches in the year, and also the most popular. Even in the stoic black pinafore of the winter uniform, she always looked so glamorous—the addition of non-regulation hair accessories elevated her above the average girl in the esteem of many, and marked her down in the teachers’ books as a bit of a rebellious spirit, even though she appeared to consistently do well in all subjects across the board. She often rivalled and even beat Hecate’s marks in homework and exams, much to Hecate’s dismay.

Pippa Pentangle represented everything that Hecate disliked. She treated magic like something _fun_ —she would use unauthorised magic for all sorts of frivolous reasons. Famed in the corridors was her hair volume potion that was said to give your hair so much more height than Marvella Wonderlock’s, which was _the_ “in” brand, whose signature products were in every popular girl’s care parcels in the weekly broom-mail. Of course, there was no doubt of her magical talent, but her application of that talent was horribly misplaced, according to Hecate.

And it was _Pippa Pentangle’s_ sash that she had to return—although now it was far too late in the morning to try to discreetly put it somewhere where Pippa might find it. For a mad moment, Hecate thought she should take it with her in her bag in case an opportunity presented itself—but that was ridiculous, because if someone found it on her, she could be accused of having stolen it.

If she did not leave now, she would be late for Botany. Walking in late to one of Miss Willowes’—or indeed, any member of staff’s—lessons would have been beyond humiliating, not least because whenever she walked into a room anyway she would face a whispered wave of “weirdo” and “freak” accompanying her to her desk. If she was there already, she could keep her head down and try her best to look invisible.

Taking one desperate last look at Pippa Pentangle’s sash, coiled like a serpent waiting to lash out at her on her bedspread, Hecate slung her bag over her shoulder and marched off. 

To Hecate, “on time” meant “late”. Early was the only acceptable time to arrive. There was no one waiting outside the classroom as she found her way to the Botany room, and she entered to escape the truly arctic wind funnelling through the stone corridor that penetrated even the thickest pair of tights.

She stepped into the classroom and took her usual seat at the front and off to the left—the front centre desks were reserved for the popular girls, and everyone knew to leave them free or face social exile, ridiculous as a concept as this was in Hecate’s mind.

Miss Willowes was already at the front of the class, sorting through the materials for her class. Hecate admired the imposing figure her teacher struck in her sharply tailored jacket with its wide padded shoulders over a lace-collared blouse. She was one of the younger members of teaching staff, but she knew a great deal about the Craft and had earned Hecate’s deepest reverence—not only because of her discipline, but due to her clear dedication and enthusiasm for teaching. 

A stream of students filtered in, while Hecate sat, arms folded, at her desk. Her textbook, exercise book, and pencil case were all aligned perfectly before her. There was safety in order, and it calmed her to be able to have a degree of control. 

“Hecate,” Miss Willowes said, not looking up from her work.

Hecate straightened her posture. “Yes, Miss Willowes?”

“Could you distribute these worksheets?”

“Of course, Miss Willowes,” Hecate said, brimming with pride. 

Someone from the back row coughed, which sounded an awful lot like _teacher’s pet_. Miss Willowes scowled about the room, but the culprit was not evident. Hecate stood up from her seat, and approached the stack of sheets on Miss Willowes’ desk. Facing the class and raising her hands as if she were holding an invisible conductor’s baton, she began to sing a chant to send the papers sailing through the air to settle in front of each pupil. Hecate ignored the giggles at her plain-sounding voice, but could not help but notice that the front centre desks were still vacant. Where was Pippa Pentangle?

Miss Willowes was the type of teacher who had an excellent sense of authority and fairness—but a uniform infraction was the quickest way to sour her mood—as Pippa Pentangle was about to find out when she walked in with her friends with no sash about her waist. Hecate’s voice wavered in the final couplet of her chant in a way she could not explain at the sight of Pippa wafting in and sitting down almost directly in front of her—but regained control, finished the chant, and sat down before her own embarrassment swallowed her whole.

“Pippa Pentangle,” Miss Willowes said in her clipped voice. “Where is your sash?”

“I couldn’t find it this morning, Miss,” Pippa said smoothly, apparently unperturbed by the trouble she could be getting herself into. “I looked everywhere, but I suppose it must be lost somewhere.”

Miss Willowes looked sharply around at them all. “Has anyone seen Pippa’s house sash?”

Hecate felt all moisture dry up in her throat. It occurred to her that if she had brought it with her, she could have just said she had found it in the corridor, but now her chance was lost.

“Detention,” Miss Willowes said, articulating each syllable. “There is no excuse for incorrect uniform, and this is not the first time I’ve had to warn you about it, Pippa. See me after class.”

Hecate spent the rest of the lesson feeling incredibly guilty, feeling as though even the rasp of her pen nib against the paper as she took notes sounded like _thief_. Miss Willowes’ clear voice cut through the thick air that clung to her—yet all she could think about while examining the white horehound, of which she was meant to be creating five different preparations, was what Mistress Broomhead would do if she discovered what had happened.

Later, she would have to either try to find a quiet time to put the sash into the Lost and Found box—but considering that her wrongdoing had put Pippa into detention, she felt that she should confess to her crime and apologise properly. Perhaps Pippa would take pity on her and not report her and Morgana. Her knees shook under her desk as she felt her concentration distracted completely by the thought of having to actually speak to the queen of the Fourth Form.

* * *

Hecate knocked hesitantly on the door, after passing an incredibly awful day with anxiety churning in her stomach. It had been absolute torture waiting for the usual detention hour to be over after dinner, and she had headed straight over to the Wolfsbane dormitory corridor to find Pippa Pentangle’s room. She felt odd being there amongst the purple wallhangings, for she never had reason to visit any of the other house corridors beyond her own. The door she waited before was intimidatingly Pippa Pentangle-like—even the nameplate was decorated with ribbon bows and pink stickers, and—to an unsettling feeling in Hecate’s stomach—the press of a lipstick print.

“Come in,” came a sing-song voice from within.

Hecate turned the heavy doorhandle, cautious as she tightened her hand around the head-of-year sash.

Hecate felt as though she had walked into a room of many dimensions—for pinned up on every inch of the formidable stone walls were posters of all different shapes and sizes. All the bookshelves and the desk had been painted in various shades of pink, which Hecate was certain was against school rules, and knickknacks were lined up neatly upon every available surface. There were several pictures of the same popular chantress clumped together in a kind of shrine next to the dressing table. Hecate had a moment to take in her flowing dark hair and otherworldly calmness as she elegantly draped her form across various walls and surfaces and, for some reason, a harp—and this serene woman was juxtaposed with a banality of Ordinary bands around her in trendy clothes. Whether the chantress or the Ordinary bands were more out of place were anyone’s guess.

She had to struggle to focus on the back of Pippa’s head, facing the mirror at her dressing table. Hanging from a stand, organised by type and colour, were a collection of headbands, scrunchies, and hair bobbles with pink spheres. Hecate was confused as to why so many accessories were necessary when there was surely a finite number one could wear at any given time.

“Melissa, what do you think of this—” Pippa cut herself off as she realised the reflection of the girl behind her was not Melissa. “Er— hi,” Pippa said awkwardly, turning around in her chair with her legs dangling off to the side. Her school tie was loose and the top button of her shirt was undone in a careless manner.

“I—I’m so sorry to intrude,” Hecate stammered, all too suddenly realising that she had never actually spoken directly to Pippa Pentangle without her coven of friends.

“That’s all right,” Pippa started, and then her eyes widened at the sight of the purple and gold sash in Hecate’s hands. “Wait, is that my sash? You found it!”

Pippa slid out of the chair and extended her hand to take the sash from Hecate. Hecate had never noticed quite how short Pippa Pentangle was before, but perhaps it was because she was in her hobnailed boots and Pippa was currently wearing fuzzy unicorn slippers with shiny silver horns extending from the toes, and large eyes that stared out from beneath a pair of pink legwarmers over her purple school tights.

“I didn’t exactly _find_ it,” Hecate confessed slowly, her eyes trailing over the pictures of Pippa and her friends stuck all the way around the mirror. “My familiar—stole it from you.”

“Aha,” Pippa said, but she sounded amused rather than annoyed. “I did wonder who the beautiful long-haired cat belonged to.”

“I’m so sorry she has been causing so much trouble.” Hecate bowed her head. “I will have to—train her better.”

Pippa took the dangling end of the sash, and it took Hecate a moment to release her hold on it—she had been far too focused on the fact that their hands had been inches apart on the sash.

“You put me in detention.”

Hecate felt her stomach bottom out. Pippa had said the words she had feared hearing so much—and she only hoped that she could offer something that would persuade Pippa not to make her life any more of a living hell than it already was. “I am _so_ sorry, and I will do whatever I can to make it up to you.”

“No, I—” Pippa started, and Hecate looked up to see that she was smiling. “I actually let your familiar take my sash. I wanted to find out who her owner was.”

“Oh,” Hecate responded, not sure what to make of this puzzling revelation. She was still attempting to process the fact that she was actually addressing _Pippa Pentangle_ , the last person in Cackle’s with whom she thought she would be speaking, in her incredibly pink room.

“I knew there was a chance I would get a detention, so don’t worry about that. I kind of hoped whoever it was would give it back before I got caught, but it was fine in the end.” Pippa shrugged.

Hecate was astounded that Pippa was so nonchalant about detention—but then again, Pippa did not have the record that Hecate did. “Then you won’t make me do all your homework for you? Or report me to Mrs Cackle?”

“That’s not really my style.” Pippa raised an eyebrow.

Hecate bit her lip. Pippa was being—ostensibly—nice to her, but Hecate had her suspicions that it was all an act. “I’m sorry. I should go.” Hecate moved towards the door.

“You don’t have to,” Pippa’s voice came over her shoulder as she touched the handle.

“You were expecting Melissa. I don’t want to get in the way,” Hecate returned. “Sorry about my familiar. I’ll try to not let it happen again.”

Hecate fled before Pippa could say another word, and headed back towards the Poppy dormitories, heart thudding in her chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the house names come from TWW live - and are as follows: Poppy (red), Wolfsbane (purple), Toadflax (yellow), and Pennywort (green)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pippa Pentangle struggles to balance the newfound discovery of who her feline visitor belongs to with an increasingly complicated social life.

Pippa stretched and yawned. Soft fur brushed against her back as Pepper shifted and padded up onto her pillow to rouse her. She supposed it was morning, and tried to summon the energy to wake up.

As the grogginess of her sleep faded from her, she thought about the previous night. Before Melissa, Tammy, Valerie, and Brenda had joined her and they’d had an important Pink Sisters meeting about their weekend plans, Hecate Hardbroom—that quiet girl in their year who was freakishly smart and had a posture like she was walking with broomstick strapped to her back—had appeared in her dorm room with her missing sash. Pippa had never once seen her smile, but the weirdest thing about her possibly was that she didn’t seem to have even existed before last year. 

Her coven were all scathing of this Hecate, who was by far the least popular girl in the entire school, and Pippa knew why—Hecate gave off such an intimidating energy that it was hard not to feel scrutinised by her whenever she dared to meet your eye. When she didn’t look permanently angry, she looked sad—but Pippa had only caught glimpses of that sadness before her face hardened again.

In Hecate’s face yesterday, however, she had seen something new—fear—panic. It wasn’t an improvement, by any stretch of the imagination, but it did intrigue her. That girl was a puzzle, Pippa thought while she gathered a towel and uniform and headed down the corridor to the showers, and she knew now she was too curious not to pry further.

* * *

Lunch break came none too soon—Pippa led the way with Melissa, who was talking loudly and deliberately about a boy from Moonridge High who she had been exchanging letters with—Jason, or whatever his name was. She tried to be an encouraging and attentive friend, but Melissa had been wearing his name out by bringing it up whenever she was in earshot of the unfortunate Fifth Former, Cindy Sinclair, who had been his previous girlfriend.

Once they had got received their plates of grey gloop, they sat at their usual area of the table.

“Hey guys, I made us all friendship bracelets,” Pippa said excitedly, opening her hand with a spark of magic as five identical knotted bracelets appeared from nowhere. They were in shades of pink, with star beads at the end of each of the ties. “Pink Sisters forever!”

“When did you have time to make all these?” Tammy exclaimed, mouth agape.

“Just a spell I’ve been working on,” Pippa said with an off-hand smile. “While I was doing my essay for Willowes in detention, I had these going in my bag. I was going to show you all last night, but I had a brainwave.” She lowered her voice. “Watch while Miss Bat walks by.”

Miss Bat, their silver-haired chanting mistress, hummed as she crossed the hall to join the staff table—and the bracelets vanished as she approached, then faded back into visibility as she drew further away.

“ _Wicked_ ,” Brenda said.

“Just keep them discreet. The charm won’t fool them if they’ve seen it from far off,” Pippa warned them. “I don’t understand why the uniform guidelines are so strict. It’s not like we lose the ability to learn when we’re wearing accessories that actually have a colour.”

Pippa tied each of their bracelets in a ceremonious way, proud she had done something for her coven. “We can wear them for luck in the House Chanting Competition,” she said, and as she continued to tie the bracelets, noticed the gangly form of Hecate Hardbroom sitting relatively close by. She took the opportunity while her coven mates were distracted by the bracelets to watch her for a moment, and wondered what she was thinking in that head of hers, under that tightly scraped back hair—before going back to pretending that she hadn’t noticed her. “That reminds me—chanting practice in music room 3 tonight?”

“As long as you don’t get another detention, Pentangle.” Brenda elbowed Pippa. “Oh—broomsticks—I forgot to book the room!”

“Don’t worry,” Pippa assured her. “We can just have it in my room instead.”

Tammy was still enamoured with her bracelet. “Did you say they’re lucky? Do they have a luck spell on them as well?”

Valerie rolled her eyes. “No, stupid. Luck spells are banned. Like, _banned_ banned. And for a good reason.”

“They may not have a luck spell, but they bond us together as sister witches, and that’s better,” Pippa replied brightly.

“Hey, look,” Melissa indicated with her eyes further along the table. “It’s the goddess of witchcraft herself.”

Pippa made a show of looking discreetly over to where Hecate was sitting, straight as a pin, pushing her food around her plate with her knife and fork perfectly poised in her thin hands. “Oh. Yeah.”

“She’s so weird. I heard she isn’t even in a coven. She’s not allowed because she’s such a _freak_.”

In her peripheral vision, Hecate stiffened. Pippa felt a pang of guilt go through her at her friend’s teasing.

Melissa wasn’t done, though. She leaned over the table towards Hecate. “Who said you were allowed to sit here? This is our spot. For Pink Sisters only. Last time I checked, you weren’t one of us.”

“I wouldn’t dare dream of such lofty aspirations,” Hecate drawled. “And—the last time _I_ checked, seating wasn’t reserved.”

“Drop dead, Hardbroom.” Melissa curled her lip. “If you repeat anything you’ve heard, you’re so hexed.”

“I have no interest in your childish conversations—or your silly little secret friendship bracelets.” 

Hecate’s words cut through Pippa like ice. Her hurt must have been evident in her expression, because Brenda looked outraged and Tammy took her hand across the table and squeezed it.

“Good thing too, because you’ll never know what it’s like to have friends,” Melissa shot back. 

Valerie stifled a laugh. Hecate dropped her cutlery with a loud clatter and got to her feet abruptly. 

Melissa gave a high-pitched sing-song, “Oooh,” as Hecate stormed off with her tray of mostly uneaten food. “Talk about stuck up.”

Pippa sighed. Melissa could be really unpleasant to others sometimes, but she was right. Hecate had been dismissive and rude, and it had made Pippa upset, especially after she had been so nice to Hecate the other day. In a way, she was glad Melissa stepped in to defend her honour, but she wished she didn’t have to do it so viciously. Melissa was one of those friends who it was safer to keep close rather than have as an enemy. She never used to be that way, and Pippa lived in the hope that it was just the usual stress of being a teenager that was making her lash out more. 

“Hey, you never told us how you got your sash back,” Tammy said. “You said it was a funny story?”

“Oh. Not really,” Pippa muttered, knowing that it could do no good to say it was Hecate, mainly because Melissa would probably spin it as some plot against Pippa. “Just some Second Former with a botched transference spell.”

* * *

The House Chanting Competition was in a few weeks, and the Pink Sisters had been practising since the start of term. It was one of Pippa’s favourite events in the school calendar. Each student would receive a point for their house for each performance entry, whether as a solo, duet, or ensemble in a variety of categories, and the winners would be awarded additional points. The final event would culminate in each of the houses performing a song of their own choosing as one choir, which was always a little chaotic, but awfully good fun, Pippa thought. She had influenced the house captain of Wolfsbane to choose one of her favourite songs by No Rest for the Witch, in exchange for her help in putting together the harmonies. 

Covens were highly encouraged to put forward at least one entry each. The Pink Sisters were entering an ensemble piece in both the traditional and popular categories, and Pippa herself had signed up for two solos, as well as her usual duet with Melissa. They hardly needed to practise the duet—it was one they did every year just for fun.

Therefore, it was very casually that Pippa lay on her bed, propped up on her elbows and stroking Pepper as she flicked through the chanting music sheets. She was waiting for the rest of her coven to come over after dinner—at which Hecate had been oddly absent. Melissa was already there, having come over early—they were both in Wolfsbane, whereas Brenda and Tammy were in Toadflax—but even though Valerie had to come all the way from the Pennywort corridor, she usually still managed to arrive before them.

Melissa’s earliness this time was unfortunate, for Pippa had saved the most portable food she could find—a baked potato—to take to Hecate’s dorm room, since she suspected that Hecate had skipped dinner owing to the confrontation with Melissa over lunch. Pippa had had to conceal the potato in a napkin in a drawer, because Melissa had come directly over after dinner, not giving Pippa an opportunity to deliver it.

“Pippa, let me do your hair while we’re waiting,” Melissa persuaded her, in a tone Pippa was all too familiar with. “It’s looking a bit flat.”

“Okay,” Pippa replied, pushing herself upright, to a _meow_ of surprise from Pepper. 

Melissa brought over a brush and teasing comb as Pippa took out her high side-ponytail. She climbed onto the bed beside Pippa, and took a section from her fringe and teased it up and back to make it fluffy. 

“I should brew up some more volume potion for us all for the weekend,” Pippa said, scratching Pepper behind the ears while Melissa fixed her hair. 

“Looking forward to it?”

“Yeah. I was thinking as well as Simply Charming, I need to go to Spellbinders for some new stationery. My pens seem to keep vanishing. And then we can go to Cosie’s?” Pippa suggested, closing her eyes. Having her hair played with was so soothing.

“Sounds good,” Melissa said, starting to brush out the deep waves that had formed from Pippa’s ponytail. “As long as we stop by the post box so I can post my letter to Jason.”

Pippa could not imagine liking a boy enough to write back to him. She had seen the letters Jason sent to Melissa, and they were frankly boring. She had read more interesting potions recipes. “Do you really like him?”

“No, not really. He’s just a bit of a distraction, you know? And besides, Cindy Sinclair was a real bitch to my sister.”

Pippa drew her knees up to her chest and hugged them. “How do you know when you really like someone?”

“You’ve liked boys before, Pippa. You know what it’s like.”

Pippa bit her lip. She had _pretended_ to like boys. She had got caught up in the excitement her friends had had when Camelot’s boys had visited for that inter-school Sports Day last year. “I don’t think I was really interested. They were just—you know, like you said, a distraction.”

Melissa gave a soft laugh of agreement. “Boys aren’t mature enough at our age anyway. I swear they share more DNA with frog spawn than us. Sometimes I think Brenda has the right idea.”

Brenda had confided in them all last year that she only liked girls. It was not really a surprise, but they had all supported her and agreed to keep her secret—it was not rare among witching kind for girls to like other girls, but there was always a flood of gossip and speculation after someone came out as to who her first girlfriend would be—and Brenda did not want that.

“Did I tell you, Brenda told me she likes Tammy?”

Pippa gasped in delight. “Oh my stars! Does Tammy like her back?”

“She hasn’t told her yet,” Melissa replied, coming around to Pippa’s front to survey the quality of her work.

Sweet, innocent, sensitive Tammy—no wonder Brenda had been forgetting to do a lot of things lately, and taking forever to walk over from the Toadflax dorms—she was preoccupied with Tammy.

“We should try to get them together,” Pippa said excitedly, clapping her hands together. “Over the weekend when we go into the village. Oh, this is going to be so much fun!”

Melissa arched an eyebrow. “Do you think Tammy would like her back?”

“I’m not sure, but have you seen the way she is with Brenda? They’re practically meant to be.” Pippa found herself overwhelmed with the idea of it, and couldn’t believe that she had never noticed it before.

Shrugging, Melissa put the brush and comb back on the dressing table. “Wonderlock’s?” she asked, picking up the hairspray.

“Of course,” Pippa replied, shielding her eyes as Melissa enveloped her head in a cloud of sweet-smelling vapour.

Pippa wondered what it would be like to kiss a girl—probably quite nice, she thought. Girls were beautiful, easy to talk to, had soft lips—not that she had ever thought about it. “If you had to kiss a girl, who would you pick?”

“Valerie,” Melissa said, without hesitating. “She’s smart, pretty, and I think it wouldn’t be weird for either of us because we’re so close. How about you? Who would you kiss?”

Pippa bit her lip as she considered what to say. “I don’t know—” She glanced over to her Serenity Yarborough posters by her dressing table, with her waist-length cascade of dark hair and soulful eyes.

Just at that moment, there was a scratching at the door. Pippa sprang up from her bed to see what it was—of course, not in any way related to her desire to avoid having to answer the question. She knew who it was already—and opened the door to see the gorgeous long-haired familiar she now knew belonged to Hecate.

“That cat’s been back again, then? Have you found out whose she is?”

Pippa scooped up the familiar, who settled in her arms almost immediately and tucked her paws in neatly.

“Her owner is still a bit of a mystery,” Pippa prevaricated. Admitting she knew she was Hecate’s cat would invite questions that Pippa would rather not answer—and it was not exactly a lie that Hecate was a mystery.

“It’s weird how she keeps turning up at your dorm,” Melissa remarked.

“It’s because I keep giving her treats, I reckon,” Pippa replied, kissing the beautiful cat on the head and heading over to the jar on her bedside table where she kept her kitty treats. 

Pepper conveniently at that moment woke up from his nap, and hopped up onto Pippa’s shoulder, where he nosed at the soft bundle balanced in her arm. Pippa struggled to navigate both cats, who suddenly became extremely interested and alert at the sound of the treat jar lid being lifted—at which point they both tumbled onto the bedspread and looked expectantly at her. She gave them each a fish-shaped treat—Pepper first, to avoid him getting jealous—and then Hecate’s cat, who took it delicately from her hand with her sharp teeth, and then ate it in the most delicate way that reminded Pippa of when she had seen Hecate earlier that day at lunch.

If Melissa was still waiting for her answer about who she would kiss, it was driven from her mind as Valerie knocked on the door—closely followed by Tammy and Brenda.

The five of them fit quite well in Pippa’s room—somehow she had managed to score one of the slightly larger rooms, which was rather fortunate when your chanting practice session had to be moved. There were plenty of places to sit, as well—for Pippa had a large beanbag and a cushion corner, in addition to her bed and her desk chair. Pippa noted Brenda grow bashful as Tammy joined her on the beanbag, and exchanged a look with Melissa.

The practice went fairly smoothly and productively, with only a few interruptions for silliness—which was, Pippa admitted, an important part of the process. It was only after they had been singing one of their songs for half an hour when Pippa realised she had neglected to cast a charm on her room so they would not disturb those in all the neighbouring dorms, after a polite note was pushed under the door reminding her of that fact. Brenda seemed to still be forgetting some of the lines, which Pippa found delightful now rather than worrying, since she knew the reason.

Everyone admired Hecate’s familiar, who curled up with Pepper on the beanbag as soon as Brenda and Tammy rose from it—though she would not let anyone but Pippa stroke her, to everyone’s disappointment. Pippa found herself wondering what her name was. Perhaps she could find out later.

* * *

After rehearsal was over, Melissa gave her usual signs of wanting to linger for a bit—making herself at home on Pippa’s bed with her homework. Melissa being around would hamper her plans for stopping by Hecate’s room—and that potato could only wait for so long in her drawer. Pippa managed to persuade Melissa to leave by saying she was really tired and needed to have an early night. She wished she had come up with a more plausible excuse, but Melissa seemed to buy it and slunk off, slightly haughty.

Putting the precious burden of the potato wrapped in the napkin into her dressing gown pocket, and bearing Hecate’s cat in her arms, Pippa stole out into the corridor, cautious to any sign of her friends. It was not quite time for curfew, which was at nine o’clock, so she was perfectly within her rights to be out and about—but this Hecate business was making quite the rogue of her. 

She moved silently across the dormitory wing, over to the farthest end from her—and as she did so, it occurred to her just how far Hecate’s little kitty had to walk almost every day to reach her. There must be other dorms she visited on the way. It couldn’t be just Pippa and Pepper that she came to see—could it? 

Pippa wondered why Hecate’s cat wanted to be away from her mistress. Familiars did not usually like to stray too far from their witches, and usually if they did, it would only be to someone both witch and cat trusted implicitly. Pippa and Hecate had no such bond, and they had only really had one conversation. It was curious, but Pippa supposed it had something to do with the treats that she plied the soft little cat with. There was also the peculiarity of her stealing things—it explained why Pippa’s things had been going missing, but the reason was still baffling. Maybe she should research familiars’ behaviour patterns when under stress and give Hecate some advice if she could.

The red banners of Poppy came into view—and Pippa started to read the nameplates of the students’ doors, searching for Hecate Hardbroom. She wondered how Hecate would have decorated her sign to individualise it a bit—but was disappointed when she found it to see that it was plain, with her name written simply and clearly. On closer inspection, she realised that it was the original sign in Mrs Cackle’s writing from when they first joined the school. Hecate had never had the impulse to design her own sign. It was somehow oddly upsetting.

Pippa knocked three times on the door, and there was a long pause before the door opened a crack to show a sliver of a pale, drawn face. Recognition and shame pinched her face as she saw the cat in Pippa’s arms.

“Can I come in?” Pippa asked in a small voice.

“If you must.” The door opened a little further to admit her.

Pippa was astounded at how utterly spartan the room was. If she had not know that it was Hecate’s dorm, she would have thought that it was uninhabited. Aside from the bed having sheets upon it—the standard, threadbare, grey kind, the candle on the desk, and a small number of school library books upon the shelf, there was nothing in the vicinity of a personal item present, and even though it was perfectly clean and tidy, had a definite air of neglect.

“I am surprised she let you pick her up,” Hecate said in a forced voice, as Pippa let the cat jump down.

“She’s really friendly with me and Pepper,” Pippa replied tentatively. “Quite the little runaway though, isn’t she? What’s her name?”

Hecate hesitated before replying, “Morgana.”

“That’s a lovely name,” Pippa gushed, happy that Hecate seemed to be willing to talk. “It suits her so well.”

The happy feeling was short-lived, for Hecate made no response to this. Pippa self-consciously tucked her hair behind her ear, suddenly aware that it was completely different to when Hecate had seen her in their last lesson of the day, and cleared her throat. She wondered what Hecate made of that—probably that she was a shallow, superficial airhead who was only concerned about the way she looked—and when she saw Hecate’s gaze drawing to the friendship bracelet around her wrist, she tucked it into her sleeve.

“Oh—um—I noticed that you weren’t at dinner, so I brought you something.” Pippa reached into her dressing gown pocket and took out the potato. She tapped it to heat it up, and handed it to Hecate. “It’s not much, but— I’m really sorry Melissa said those things to you.”

Hecate unwrapped the napkin to look at the potato—and for a moment, Pippa thought she was going to cry, but her brow hardened. “Thanks,” she muttered. “You didn’t have to do that. And the apology is unnecessary.”

Pippa bit her lip. Hecate was even more complicated a character than she had imagined. Pippa felt as though whatever she said, she would somehow upset or offend her. Further conversation was most likely out of the question—for tonight, at least. “I’d best leave you to it then.”

“Please.”

_Oh._ She was making Hecate uncomfortable. Perhaps she had overstepped with the potato. It was hardly her place to interfere, and she realised she was, by association with Melissa, not the friendly presence she had hoped to be. But maybe—just maybe—she would trust Pippa enough to let her in sometime.

Hecate followed her to the door and opened it for her, clearly wanting her to leave. Pippa nodded awkwardly, trying to arrange her face into a pleasant expression as she backed out into the corridor. “Good night, then.”

The door shut, leaving Pippa with one last glimpse of Hecate’s harrowed eyes before she could only see the blank wooden door, and its dispassionate _Hecate Hardbroom_ nameplate.

At least she now knew the name of her cat-burglar. “Morgana,” Pippa whispered into the empty corridor, and allowed herself a small smile.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hecate spends her Saturday at Cackle's, while most of the Fourth Form are off to the local village.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for emotional abuse, bullying, and representation of anxiety

Hecate approached the library doors, each of her steps as tentative as if she were picking her way through thorns. The doors burst open as she was about to step up to them—she recoiled sharply. The faces of a group of Second Formers loomed before her—laughing—jeering—as if entering the fog of Hecate’s mind through a portal from another dimension. Hecate froze until they passed, and then slipped in through the closing door without touching it, her hands tight and protective at her chest.

The doors steadily shut, sealing away the laughter. Hecate breathed out—but the comforting silence of the library in which she had hoped to find solace was still punctuated with flashes of a fresh set of Mistress Broomhead’s criticisms. _“Your control is deplorable. Did you even so much as crack a book open this week?”_

Hecate glanced down at her list—in her cramped writing, she had dutifully copied down the compulsory reading list she had been assigned for that week—and went to each title’s location in turn to collect it. The sight of other students’ feet crossing her path caused her to flinch—a sudden sting as Mistress Broomhead’s ruler snapped against her desk. _“Worthless.”_

She tried to focus on the task at hand— _Following the Code, Volume XXI_ , _Mastering the Craft: Familiar Focus_ , _Order and Control for the Disciplined Witch_. The library used to be a place of wonderment for Hecate, but that had been before— before her Saturday lessons had begun. While the rest of the students enjoyed time with their covens, and while the Fourth and Fifth Formers were allowed to leave the school grounds to visit the village at the foot of the mountain, Hecate was under a strict schedule and a remarkably short leash. She was a changed witch since those days when she had trailed her hands over the spines of all the books as she walked through the stacks, feeling the spark of magic in each calling out to her own from across centuries of witching history.

Hecate stepped up to the borrowing desk, and wordlessly handed over the collection of books in her arms. Seven—one for each day of the week until the next Saturday. The librarian checked each book out with a wave of her hand over her ledger, before sliding the neat pile back to her. Nary a smile nor even a look was exchanged between them; even if Hecate could bear to meet the librarian’s eye, she knew the librarian was fully appraised of her situation and would have no kindness for her.

Hecate returned to her dormitory, and placed the books carefully on the shelf. The corridors were quiet, and her room still—as they usually were at this time of day—for all the older students would be taking full advantage of their freedom to leave behind the school grounds for the excitement of whatever delights the village held. Even so, Hecate could find no comfort in the peace, as if at any moment the quietness would be overcome by something shattering though the fragile glass walls she built up around herself.

After a solitary lunch, sitting well apart from all the students in the younger forms—who were either too curious about her presence during their lunch for their own good, or actively rude about the fact that she never went out to the village—Hecate retired to her dormitory. 

As soon as she cracked the door open, the soft furry face of Morgana peered up at her expectantly, and almost darted out past her ankles—had she not anticipated this and scooped her up with a single hand, lifting her to her chest to keep her from squirming.

“Not today, I’m afraid, Morgana,” Hecate said, subdued. 

_“If you cannot control your familiar, how do you expect to control your magic?”_

Hecate deposited Morgana and the books on her desk. Morgana, however, immediately turned tail, plopped off the desk onto the floor, and padded over to the door, where she reached up to the handle and fruitlessly clawed at the perfectly smooth metal. She twisted her head around and looked at Hecate morosely, yowling a plaintive song of discontent.

“I _know_ , Morgana. But unless I want to lose you, we have to train. Okay?” Hecate lifted the cat up to her eye level. Her usually sleek limbs stretched stiffly downwards and her ears swivelled back in dismay. “That means no more wandering over to other girls’ dormitories—least of all Pippa Pentangle’s.”

Hecate sat on the bed heavily and cradled Morgana on her lap, tears brimming in her eyes. Morgana stretched herself up, paws pressed into Hecate’s heart, and nosed at her face, no longer caring about the door and the adventures that awaited her beyond. Hecate scritched her behind her ears.

_“Any more reports of your familiar misbehaving in such a manner again and I will recommend that she is confiscated for the rest of the term. You will train her or you will lose her. Having a familiar is a privilege, not a right. Bring her next week. I expect her to do these five things without hesitation or failure.”_

“I’m sorry, Morgana,” she said, “but I think we’d both prefer it if you didn’t spend the rest of the term in confiscation.”

She thought back to how Morgana had been as a kitten. The truth was that she had never taken naturally to the Craft—she point blank refused to sit on a broomstick, let alone upright—fell into her cauldron on multiple occasions—and yowled in distress whenever Hecate would try to practise her chants. 

Hecate remembered distinctly how Pippa Pentangle’s familiar had effortlessly leapt up onto her hovering broom of her own accord on their first flying lesson, while she had had to lift Morgana, all wriggling limbs and extended claws, onto the tail end. Morgana put one paw onto the bristles and retracted it in disgust. On repeated attempts, she latched her claws into Hecate’s sleeve, her long fur standing on end as though she were an angry feather duster with eyes. 

Of course, she had been Joy, then. Now, neither Pippa nor the rest of her class would have made the connection that Joy and Hecate were the same girl. Hecate felt almost thankful that she had had another chance at inventing herself—though she would much rather have not had to change her identity at all. It had not been as much a conscious decision as something that had happened almost by accident. 

When Mistress Broomhead had presented the young Joy to Mrs Cackle after her tuition during her first confined summer at Cackle’s, Mrs Cackle had asked whether the girl before her was a new pupil, since she had been so altered by those two months of summer. Gone were the curly, bulging plaits—and in their place, a single, tight high bun without a curl in sight. Her face appeared slimmer, for she no longer smiled, and she began to develop grey circles under her eyes from losing sleep to study. Mrs Cackle had decided it would benefit Joy to start her next year with a new name to go with her new presentation, to put the entire Indigo Moon business behind her.

There were very few rumours about Joy’s disappearance, for she had had no friends to miss her. If anyone noted that Hecate Hardbroom had the same last name as Joy, they made no sign of it. Hecate often wondered if Mrs Cackle had made strategic use of a Forgetting Powder, since she would have expected at least one person perhaps to have recognised her. Yet she dared not ask, given that accusing the headmistress of using such illegal magic would have been the height of impropriety.

It had taken Hecate a while to train Morgana to the standard which she had, up until recently, maintained and improved upon—yet now it felt as though Hecate had travelled back in time to her early days with Mistress Broomhead, when she had been completely lacking in control and her magic had all but dithered about her, unhoned and unpredictable. Morgana was behaving very strangely indeed, and Hecate supposed she herself must be at fault. 

Hecate crossed to the desk, where the books were stacked up and waiting for her to begin reading. Morgana joined her dutifully, but curled up in her empty cauldron as Hecate selected _You and Your Familiar: Training a Powerful Ally_. It was a habit she had never quite grown out of—against the dark cast iron surface, she was almost invisible.

_A familiar is a reflection of a witch’s mind_ , Hecate read. _Therefore, when a witch’s attention becomes disorderly, it is likely that their familiar will spurn the ideals of obedience and deference in reaction._ Well, there it was—proof that Hecate was distracted, and that Morgana had become distracted as well—although why Hecate would want to subconsciously sneak into the queen of the Fourth Form’s dormitory and steal her personal belongings was beyond her.

Hecate was not quite certain exactly what in her life was causing the most distraction—but regardless, she would try to start on redirecting Morgana’s attention into a more strict training schedule. 

Mistress Broomhead had specified several areas in which she would be test Morgana’s aptitude next week—sitting upright on a hovering broomstick, assisting in the making of a potion, walking a certain route while using Familiar Sight spell, and foraging for ingredients. Morgana was excellent on a broomstick, once Hecate had helped her to become less scared of the bristles, and it had been a long time since Morgana had tumbled ears over tail into a potion. The latter two gave Hecate pause, however—their Botany lessons only seldom involved familiars, and Hecate did not believe she had cast a Familiar Sight spell for quite some time.

Fortunately, Hecate would have the opportunity to practise both of these spells, for next on her schedule she was tasked to attend to the school herb gardens. Quite aside from being part of her ongoing punishment, it had given Hecate the opportunity to show her worth to Miss Willowes, who had been impressed with her herb gathering efficiency. She was certain that Miss Willowes would not mind her bringing Morgana along.

Hecate took up her botanist’s kit—which was technically one of the school’s, but Miss Willowes had said she could keep it, after a year of her asking for the key each week to borrow it from the store cupboard—and fastened her cloak at her throat, slipping a pair of warm gloves into one of the inner pockets. Rather than trusting Morgana to follow her, she extracted her from the cauldron, and encouraged her to climb up onto her shoulders.

Hecate swept down the corridor, her cloak billowing behind her. Morgana settled herself around Hecate’s neck, occasionally flicking her tail into Hecate’s face as she walked—past the echoing chanting practice coming from the music rooms. She was aware that the House Chanting Competition was on the horizon, and was entered into the traditional solo category, as she had been instructed by Mistress Broomhead. There was no excuse for a witch not to excel in all areas, according to Mistress Broomhead, and thus she had had no choice in the matter.

It was clear, cool, and bright out in the open air, and Hecate winced against the sun as she descended the steps from the east entrance of the castle down to the herb gardens. She unlatched and swung open the cracked wooden gate to the cloistered gardens, relieved to see not a single soul about. Morgana’s whiskers brushed against her face as she gazed around, wide-eyed in her surprise at being taken for an outside venture.

The herb beds were a patchwork of colours and textures—fringing the stone pathways were lively sprouts of thyme, mint, sage, and rosemary, that all needed to be pruned back. Usually these would not have grown much over the course of a week in the colder months, but they had been dosed with Winter’s Growth by Hecate herself to prevent the school’s herb stock from dwindling over the winter. The less hardy plants were protected with charms to keep them going through the frosts, while the most delicate specimens were sheltered in the greenhouses.

Hecate let Morgana down to sniff about and explore the herbs. While familiars were allowed to roam freely of their own accord about the castle grounds, Hecate did not believe she had taken Morgana out for any reason that was not related to a specific lesson for several years. It was something perhaps she would try to counter, she thought, as she knelt down by the herbs and began trimming off the excess growth with a pair of secateurs, setting the stems into her basket. 

Morgana flattened herself low against the ground, eyes dark and round, watching the rustling herbs as Hecate moved them, hunting for invisible adversaries in the gaps between the rosemary stalks. She pounced, clawing at the air—then, distracted by her own swishing tail, chased it in circles in a whirl of fur and claws. Hecate could not help but let the smallest of smiles tug at the corner of her mouth.

It took quite some time to finish—and she had quite lost track of time when she could finally sit upon the bench, grateful for the rest, and make bundles of the herbs for storing fresh or stringing up and drying later. She had not noticed the exact moment that the anxious, tight feeling in her chest had loosened slightly—and though she could not feel her hands after being out in the cold for so long, it was pleasant being outside and watching Morgana play. Hecate took the lower quality leaves she had separated from the bundles to the compost heap, before collecting Morgana and heading towards the woods for wild herb gathering.

The most magical of herbs could often not be forced to grow neatly in rows, and it in fact was detrimental to their magic to grow them deliberately—for their power was more concentrated when grown wild.

Hecate, with the assistance of her book on foraging with one’s familiar, began to call upon the familiar bond she had with Morgana to help her forage. Morgana followed Hecate’s instructions, leading the way ahead of Hecate as they left the path to go deeper into the woods, leaping over tree roots and sniffing at mosses and shrubs to determine their level of magic energy.

It was late in the season for mushrooms, but there were still plenty to be found, as well as sprouts of winter nightshade and silverweed leaves. Hecate dashed after Morgana as she shot off into the gloom, having much more trouble with the fallen logs and brush than her lithe familiar. Morgana would pause before herbs or mushrooms and look back at her mistress with a gentle blink, and allow Hecate to catch up with her and take a sample, before bounding off into another direction.

Hecate realised this would be a good opportunity to practise the Familiar Sight spell as well—she leaned against the solid base of a tree, and sang a chant—she closed her eyes as Hecate, and opened them as Morgana. 

Her vision darted through the grass, pushing past blades of grass and weaving through the undergrowth. The world was paler through Morgana’s cat eyes. Colours Hecate had seen only moments ago as vibrant greens and reds and blues were subdued and washed out. In the low light of the forest, however, she could see as clearly as though the sun were illuminating the ground. While forms of trees and leaves in the distance were blurrier, things closer to her seemed much more sharp and distinct—and any motion on the forest floor around her captured her attention immediately. She could see why Morgana startled at things that seemed invisible to her now. There were also bright patches—and it took Hecate a moment to realise that these were the plants that had inherent magic within them, visible to Morgana because of her familiar kinship with magic. She could even see faint roots through the ground where the magic was seeking energy from the soil.

It was strange—though she could not feel the ground beneath Morgana’s paws as she padded through the forest, nor the sensation of grass tickling past her face—her mind started to fill in the missing information. She had to rub the pads of her fingers against the ridges of the bark of the oak tree she was leaning against in her own body to try to ground herself. Yet, as she did, she found her vision fading—and with a sensation like a numb limb waking up, her own vision was restored—she was back in herself, and Morgana was nowhere to be seen.

“Morgana, where have you got to?” Hecate whispered aloud to the trees. 

Hecate tore through the trees, trying hard to spot her fluffy familiar amidst the dark shades of brown and green about her. A patch of bracken rustled behind a tree—and there she was, eyes wild and round as she stared back at Hecate—but in a whirl of her tail, she turned and fled in search of something.

Sighing, Hecate raced in the direction Morgana had disappeared. _Morgana!_ She tried to connect their magical bond, but Morgana had evidently let her hunting instincts take over.

What she did not expect to find, however, was the sound of voices—Morgana had led her back to the path—and before she could think about concealing herself, around the corner came a burst of colour and laughter.

“But then she was all, ‘That wasn’t my cauldron. That’s Miss Ogden’s!’”

“Hey, isn’t that that familiar who keeps coming into your dorm, Pip?”

The girl speaking fell silent as all five of them saw Hecate at the side of the path. She wished she had transferred away—but it was too late. The surprised faces of Valerie Holmwood, Brenda King, Tammy Doddington, and Melissa Midgley all fixed on her—with Pippa Pentangle at their centre.

“ _You!_ ” Melissa spat. 

Hecate was only half-aware of Melissa. The last time Hecate had seen Pippa had been only the previous night, when she had brought that jacket potato—a sort of peace offering, Hecate presumed. She had found it very strange indeed that Pippa should want to do such a thing—or that she had even _noticed_ that Hecate had been missing from dinner. It had to have been a sort of stunt, but the Pippa she saw now was vastly different to the one she had seen last night. Now, under a purple cloak, she was wearing a pleated mini skirt with a frilly blouse tied with a pink ribbon, and had her hair in huge, voluminous curls with a perfectly fluffed fringe. There were a number of shopping bags hooked over one arm, and the other was linked with Melissa’s.

“Gag me. The goddess is staring at you, Pippa,” Melissa drawled.

Hecate quickly snapped herself out of her state, only then aware that she had in fact, been staring at Pippa. Morgana, now at her feet, hissed as Melissa unlinked herself from Pippa and approached.

“So _you’re_ the one sending your familiar into Pippa’s room almost every night,” Valerie said.

“N—no.”

“Why do you do it? Spying on the popular girls? Trying to learn how to talk to people?” Melissa smirked.

“I had no idea where she was going.”

“What are you doing with all this, anyway?” Melissa picked a mushroom out of Hecate’s basket, and tossed it over her shoulder.

Hecate shrank back, but Morgana’s fur was standing on end, and her ears were flat in barely contained fury. “I’m— I’m gathering supplies for the potions cupboard.” Hecate could have stopped the mushroom mid-air and levitated it back to her, but she worried that this might be taken as a challenge. There was no fight in her today, and she only wanted to be left alone.

“Why? Are you really that much of a teacher’s pet that you have to suck up by restocking the potions cupboard?” Melissa tapped her throat and Hecate’s own voice began to come out of her mouth. “Please, Miss Willowes, I’ll do _anything_ for you, Miss Willowes!”

Hecate looked away. It would be best for her, and for everyone, if she kept quiet. 

Melissa’s voice became her own again. “Or did Little Miss Perfect Hardbroom get a detention?”

Hecate trembled. She could not meet Melissa’s eye. She wanted to lie—to say that yes, it was a detention, or yes, she was just a teacher’s pet—but she found her tongue would say nothing at all. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she could feel Mistress Broomhead’s imposing figure looming down over her.

Valerie chimed in. “Hello? Earth to Hecate Hardbroom?”

Hecate remained silent as her pulse thudded in her ears. Perhaps if she did not respond, they would get bored of her and leave.

“Come on, girls. This is a waste of our time,” Pippa sighed, breezing past Hecate on the path, barely acknowledging her presence as she left.

Hecate could not explain why those words struck a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach—nor why her heart would not stop racing.

Melissa, seeing Pippa walk away without her, rounded on Hecate one last time. “If I see that cat again in any of our rooms, I’ll tell Mrs. Cackle you’ve been sending her to copy our homework. So stay away. Got it?” She turned on her heel and strutted off to catch up with the rest of her coven.

Hecate stood immobile, feeling out of sync with the forest around her as she processed what had just happened. 

Morgana bunted her head against Hecate’s ankle, and she felt the ground solidify beneath her once again. She crossed over to where the mushroom had fallen and bent to retrieve it, followed by her protective little shadow.

First Mistress Broomhead—and now Melissa Midgley. Hecate scooped Morgana into her arms and held her close to her chest, feeling the luxuriant fur sprouting between her fingers. “Oh Morgana—I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pippa and the Pink Sisters are returning from their trip to the village when they come across Hecate, and realises that she has to have a difficult conversation with a certain member of her coven.

Pippa slumped on her bed, petting Pepper as he snoozed with his round head resting on his paws outstretched before him. She was worried—she and Melissa had fought before, but this time it seemed serious.

The high she had been riding from the wonderful day she’d had with her coven—laughing, shopping, buying too many things, hushed conversations with Melissa about Brenda and Tammy—had felt so sweet. They had spent the morning together doing their hair with one of Pippa’s potions, dressed up in carefully coordinated outfits, and shown off their matching friendship bracelets. It had been the day off they deserved from practice for the House Chanting Competition.

The Pink Sisters’ visit to the village had taken a predictable turn to spontaneity as soon as the smell of clotted cream fudge wafted out of the sweet shop—Tammy was drawn in, and they all followed her eagerly, starved of flavour by the blandness of school dinners. Pippa was trying to gently create situations where Tammy and Brenda would be together alone—she was quite keen on the idea of seeing how they interacted to see if there was a chance that they might eventually get together, but it was hard to manage when they were all supposed to be hanging out as one coven. Pippa had intended to try to let Tammy and Brenda go in alone, but she herself been unable to resist the shiny packaging and ribbons—pale pink rose creams, of course, and for some reason that she could not explain, dark chocolate fudge. Brenda bought a cloud of green sugar moss, and tore some off for Tammy as they left for Simply Charming, their haven for all things hair and beauty.

Amidst the shelves stacked heavily with potions and lotions, blush and eyeshadow in every colour imaginable, and nail varnish bottles looking just like rows of gemstones, Pippa managed to separate herself, Valerie, and Melissa from Tammy and Brenda—hovering in a nearby aisle, she spied on Tammy picking up a fabric hairtie and asking Brenda if she thought it would look good on her or if the colour was too much. Brenda held it up to Tammy’s short bob of golden waves and stammered slightly as she gave her approval. The exchange made Pippa and Melissa share a knowing smile, and they moved on.

The confidence with which Pippa had strolled through the shop with her friends in tow commanded the attention of the attendant—who knew them fairly well, since they always visited to top up on their favourite essentials. When Pippa asked the attendant if she would recommend anything, she had shown them the new range of cosmetics just released by Witches’ Brew. They each bought one of each product with the promise to share them for their official Pink Sisters review—which they would publish around the dormitories to let everyone know their verdict of whether certain products were in or out.

Pippa steered them back on track again before they could get distracted, and they filtered into Spellbinders, the stationers. She linked arms with Valerie, who was quite serious about her stationery, as they looked at the shimmer inks. Pippa found a violet-black one with a subtle gold lustre that she wondered if she could get away with for use in homework. She also had to replace some of the pens and pencils she supposed Morgana had made off with.

She watched from the counter as she paid for her things as Tammy and Brenda talked about notebooks, twisting her mouth in concentration, trying to see if Brenda was making any signals, but she was being evasive, and even being overly conscious about not making skin contact as she passed a notebook over to Tammy for look at. Pippa did not know how she had not seen it before, but now that Melissa mentioned it, it was all too obvious to her. Pippa could only hope that Tammy was not as clueless as she was.

They had a rather late lunch of afternoon tea sandwiches and cakes at Cosie’s Tea Room. The tiered plate had Pippa’s favourite pink petits fours in that day’s selection—with white and dark chocolate piped over the top. Having a proper afternoon tea in her best clothes always made Pippa feel rather grown-up, even if she did have hot chocolate with hers instead of tea. She made sure to observe Brenda and Tammy diligently as they ate, but no ground seemed to have been gained on that front—sharing the sugar moss and the moment with the hairtie was about as close as they had come. Pippa suspected that a more direct approach would be necessary, but it was something that would have to be done with a great amount of delicacy and definitely not something to force prematurely. And perhaps it was the wrong time for it after all—the House Chanting Competition was weeks away, and she didn’t want anyone to fall out and have to still participate if they were uncomfortable.

It was too bad that the exhilaration of the day was a short-lived. All of it vanished in an instant when they had found Hecate Hardbroom in the middle of their path back through the forest.

Yet—no, that wasn’t it at all. Pippa remembered that at the sight of Morgana—the dear, soft creature she could not help but recognise instantly by her long, lustrous fur—her heart had soared at the possibility that with Morgana was the promise of her mistress Hecate.

Her hopes had been rewarded, for in the next breath she had taken, she had seen Hecate emerging from beyond the treeline, ethereal as a willowy dryad, her cheeks flushed with exhilaration, with a basket over her arm. Her hood draped over her shoulders and down her back, and the folds of her cloak enveloped around her. A trace of hair had escaped her bun and wisped past her cheek. She had never seen Hecate looking so _alive_ and unrestrained, and she realised just how beautiful Hecate really was—how beautiful she had always been.

It had been only after that sparkling moment that her mood had dropped. Melissa, hanging on her arm, had noticed Pippa stopping dead in her tracks—and then made the connection between the mysterious familiar who was always in Pippa’s room and the sight of Hecate in an instant.

Hecate’s face had paled and turned to motionless marble as Melissa started up a string of accusations Pippa knew to be false—but she had not been able to reveal this without implicating herself in a lie, for she had denied knowledge of Morgana’s owner. Even though Melissa was being especially cruel—mocking her, mimicking her voice with a spell, throwing the ingredients she had carefully collected to the floor—Hecate did not respond and merely turned her eyes downward meekly in acceptance. The heartbreak she had felt was still just as fresh now, hours after, as it had been in the moment.

* * *

“Come on, girls. This is a waste of our time.”

It was not what Pippa had meant. She would have phrased it differently if she hadn’t been so _tired_ all of a sudden. The aching in her feet from walking around all day turned from a comforting mark of how far they had gone together to a bothering annoyance. She led the way on, not daring to look at Hecate as she passed her—she did not want the look of Melissa-inspired irritation on her face to be misconstrued in any way.

A few steps behind her, she heard Melissa threatening Hecate in a voice like a snarl. “If I see that cat again in any of our rooms, I’ll tell Mrs. Cackle you’ve been sending her to copy our homework. So stay away. Got it?”

Pippa felt ill, with the weight of Melissa’s words settling uncomfortably in her stomach. Melissa, evidently done tormenting Hecate, rejoined them. Pippa held her arms stiffly by her sides, hoping Melissa would not try to link arms with her.

“Wow, I had no idea that Hecate Hardbroom’s familiar was so _pretty_ ,” Tammy said in the awkward silence as they continued along the forest path. 

“So weird,” Valerie agreed. “You’d think she’d be more plain, like her mistress.”

“I think Hecate could actually be quite pretty if she didn’t scrape her hair back into that bun every day,” Brenda mused, “and maybe some eyeliner or lipstick wouldn’t hurt.” The comment made Pippa suddenly aware of her earlier thought of Hecate as beautiful. If she shared that opinion with Brenda, who definitely liked girls—

“So flat. So tragic,” Valerie sighed. “Maybe we should ask her if she wants a makeover.”

“No,” Melissa raised her voice. “Even if she did agree to it, think of the _consequences_. She’s an outcast for a reason. I bet her goody-two-shoes act is just a front. No one’s that much of a saint. You know, I get the feeling she’s _evil_ underneath it all. You know, with the way she glares at everyone. She should stay in the mud where she belongs. Keeping her downtrodden only means she has less power.”

Pippa had to say something. Her heart thumped uncomfortably in her chest as she realised she couldn’t bear another second of it. “That’s not really fair to say.”

Melissa froze and turned on Pippa. The air suddenly became thick with crossed glances between the five of them.

“ _Excuse_ me?”

“I don’t think that attitude goes with our philosophy as The Pink Sisters. We’re supposed to be nice to people. This isn’t us.”

A look of disbelief contorted Melissa’s face. “She thinks we’re no better than the dirt beneath her perfect boots. Or haven’t you noticed the way she looks at us?”

Blood rushed in Pippa’s ears. Her tolerance was draining rapidly. “Maybe, but when was the last time you said anything to her that wasn’t a threat or an insult? No wonder she hates us. It’s because you’re always so hostile to her.”

“She kind of has a point,” Valerie added.

Melissa narrowed her eyes. Pippa could tell it was only out of the utmost respect for her that she didn’t immediately fly into a rage. “Is this really the fight you want to have, Pippa?” 

“No, I don’t want to fight. But I want you to stop being horrible to Hecate Hardbroom,” Pippa asserted, feeling herself stand taller.

Melissa folded her arms, shrinking pathetically before Pippa even though she was a good three inches taller. “Do the rest of you feel this way?”

Tammy looked uneasy. “Yes, sorry.”

“I pity her, to be honest,” Brenda shrugged. “She’s always just looked kinda sad to me.”

“So you’re all on Pippa’s side, then.” Tears of anger shone in Melissa’s eyes as she looked around at the Pink Sisters surrounding her, like a cornered cat. “I see how it is.”

Pippa took a few steps towards Melissa and set a hand on her arm gently. “There aren’t any sides here,” she said, a pleading tone to her voice. “I just want everyone to get along.”

Melissa shook Pippa off her. “Well, you’re doing a wonderful job of that. Just think about who’s really important to you.” 

She transferred away without another word, the look of betrayal on her face hanging in the air for a moment, accusing and eerie before Pippa’s eyes, before the image drifted apart into nothingness. Pippa stepped into the space Melissa had just vacated, helpless, as the rest of her friends stood around her, wordless in the aftermath.

“I should probably follow and check she’s okay,” Valerie said uneasily. “Maybe I can try to talk some sense into her.”

Pippa nodded. It would be a terrible idea to leave Melissa alone at this time, because Pippa knew exactly what she would do—she dwell on what had happened until she convinced herself that she was completely infallible. Valerie vanished, leaving Pippa with Tammy and Brenda, who were still lingering awkwardly on the sidelines. She sighed heavily, and chewed her lip. “Have I made a huge mistake?”

“You said what we were thinking,” Brenda reassured her. “She went way too far this time.”

Tammy nodded, and then her face brightened. “I think it’s time for a Pippa sandwich!”

Pippa found herself squeezed between Tammy and Brenda in a tight hug—and it was impossible not to smile as she realised she wasn’t completely abandoned.

* * *

Pippa spent the rest of the early evening in turmoil over what she had said to Melissa. She felt like she was at fault somehow for causing tension among her friends. If she had kept her mouth shut—well, nothing would have changed, and she couldn’t live with that, either. She took a long bath to ease the aching in her legs and head, and changed into some comfortable clothes—a striped t-shirt, a loose pink terrycloth jumpsuit, and a flowing floral dressing gown, as the stone walls of her room offered very little in the way of warmth. It was too soon after the event to call a full coven meeting—and it would be better if she could come to some kind of resolution with Melissa alone. Maybe without the rest of the coven around, there would be less posturing.

Pippa crossed the hall to Melissa’s door, and paused outside the door. She could hear Melissa’s voice from inside—she clearly had someone over, possibly still Valerie—and decided that a note would be the better option. It would give Melissa the option to come to her when she was ready. She slipped a note under Melissa’s door asking if they could talk alone, and that she wanted to apologise.

At some point, she would have to find Hecate Hardbroom, as well, and try to see if there was some way she could explain what had happened. But it was all a big mess—she didn’t even know if she and Melissa were still going to be friends after the dust had settled, nor what she should tell Hecate about why she was friends with someone who thought that kind of behaviour was acceptable. It did not seem likely that Melissa would budge on the Hecate issue, but there had to be a chance. She had to try.

She pulled her hair up into a ponytail and busied herself with some homework, lying on her bed with a textbook open beside a pad of paper. Her thoughts kept straying to what Melissa had said—it was unsettling, but there wasn’t even the slightest bit of truth to it. Hecate was not evil, she was just—misunderstood. And Brenda had seen it too—she might glare a lot, but in the moments that she did not, she had a great sorrow to her eyes.

Pippa had spent half an hour writing the title of her Witchory essay and embellishing it when a knock came at the door. Her heart went into her throat as she leapt up to answer it, realising it could only be Melissa. She paused with her hand on the door handle, a shiver passing through her.

Surely enough, Melissa stood in the doorway, still in her going-out clothes from earlier—it even looked like she had touched up her makeup, whereas Pippa stood opposite her in her comfiest clothes, plain-faced and tired. They looked at each other in silence for a moment.

“I’m glad you’ve come,” Pippa started to say, but Melissa shrugged, and strutted in when Pippa stood back to let her in. The warm flutter of hope she had felt died down with Melissa’s cold indifference. She sat on the bed, shoulders slumped, finding her eyes settling on her posters. She was not quite sure why making eye contact with Melissa was so difficult—but Melissa was standing with her arms folded, looking directly down at her.

“So, you wanted to talk?”

“Yes,” Pippa began softly. “Melissa, I don’t like fighting with you. Please, let’s just make up and put this behind us. I don’t want to lose you.”

The tightness in Melissa’s pose relaxed. “That’s what I want too,” she responded, sitting beside Pippa on the bed, and taking her hand in hers. “It’s silly that we’re arguing over something that doesn’t matter.”

“So you’re okay with it? You don’t even have to be particularly _nice_ to her, just— you know. But I’d quite like to maybe extend a Pink Sister hand of friendship out to her.”

Melissa’s expression soured instantly, and she pulled her hand away from Pippa’s. “Why are you putting her above me? Doesn’t our friendship mean anything to you?”

“Of course, we’ve been friends since forever. I’m sorry.” It dawned on her why Melissa was being so insistent about this—she was _jealous_. “I care so much about you and I didn’t mean to make you feel like me reaching out to her was replacing you in any way.”

There was a moment of stillness. Pippa almost thought she might have got through to her, but then Melissa said, “If you really care about me, tell her to get lost.”

There it was. Pippa bit her lip. “I can’t do that, Melissa.”

“What, you’re really choosing _her_ over me?”

Pippa shook her head and sighed. “I don’t want to _choose_ anyone. I only think that she deserves better than being bullied.”

Melissa made a sound of disgust in her throat. “She doesn’t treat _us_ well. I’ve only ever been protecting you from her.”

“But I don’t need protecting from her, though.”

“I don’t have to listen to this.” Melissa slipped off the bed and made towards the door. 

Pippa also got to her feet, wanting to follow, but held herself back. “Please, for the sake of the coven—”

“Don’t emotionally manipulate me,” Melissa retorted, whirling around in rage. “I should have known. All you ever wanted was a coven to follow and adore you. But you never respected us as people or thought about our hopes and dreams. No, it was _always_ about _you_.”

“Where’s this coming from?” Pippa asked in a small voice, feeling her eyes fill with tears. “I’m didn’t— I’m not— That’s not what I wanted at all—”

“You think they all adore you and will do whatever you say, but— we’ll see about that.” 

Pippa did not like the look in Melissa’s eyes at all, as they glinted with a furious wickedness.

“Consider this my resignation from the Pink Sisters,” Melissa spat, and ripped the friendship bracelet from her wrist, casting it at their feet on the floor and stamping on it. “Good luck in the House Chanting Competition.” Then she wrenched open the door and slammed it behind her.

All hope of reconciliation was out of the question. The tears flowed freely down Pippa’s face. She dropped back down onto her bed, pressing her face into a soft fuzzy pink blanket. Pepper must have been awoken from his nap by the raised voices, for Pippa could feel his paws dent into the duvet as he came over to her to snuggle against her neck.

* * *

Pippa had managed to sneak some sandwiches up from the kitchens for dinner—she did not want to have to deal with sitting at the table with her coven—or most likely—without them. She imagined everyone would know by now about Melissa’s dramatic exit from the coven, and was not sure whether to anticipate further division, judging by the fact that she had not heard from Valerie at all since she left to try to talk to Melissa. Pippa wasn’t that hungry anyway, since they had had a late lunch. That happy moment seemed so distant now.

She had got barely any further on her Botany essay. After a meandering first paragraph, she had forgotten all about what Miss Willowes had even said in their last lesson. There were too many things going on in her head. Not even the new shimmering violet-black ink had provided much joy or inspiration to her, and the paper laid abandoned on her bed.

Just then, a knocking—quite frantic—came at the door. In a rush of sudden anxiety, Pippa sat up straight, checked her appearance in the mirror, before shakily going to the door. Could it be Melissa, back with another angle of attack—or another of her Pink Sisters demanding to know the latest on Melissa? By now she did not even want to hear the word “coven”.

Pure relief passed over her to see the stiff form of Hecate Hardbroom, all narrow angular shoulders and gangly arms. It was clear that Hecate was upset, even though her furrowed brow did its best to conceal it. Something in her crumpled face made Pippa’s heart twist in her chest with emotion. 

“Please, come in,” Pippa said in a low voice, eager for Hecate not to be seen coming into her room.

Hecate looked as though she was not going to come in for a moment, but Pippa gestured her in insistently, aware that Melissa might well be listening in. She cast a discreet sound muffling charm on the room, like the one she used when they practised their chanting in her room, so that they would not be overheard.

“I’m only here because I have to be. Morgana—stole this.” Hecate held up a sheet of paper. Pippa could see from the rows of staves down the page and the title that it was the music for the piece she and Melissa would always do. She realised with a pang that they would definitely not be doing it now. “I thought it would be important.”

Pippa tried to look into Hecate’s expression, which was fearful and heavily guarded. It was only natural that she should be scared to even be in Pippa’s presence. She had said _This is a waste of our time_ , rather than what she ought to have said. “Look, I’m sorry, Hecate, for— earlier. I didn’t mean it— Melissa was so out of line, and I—”

“You didn’t want to lose face.”

“Right, but—” Pippa tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Hecate said, raising her eyebrows, nonchalant. “The teasing does not affect me.”

Pippa cast a scrutinising look over Hecate, who seemed to be getting smaller by the second, even though she towered over Pippa. “Then why were you so upset when you knocked on my door?”

Hecate paused. “I—”

There was an uncomfortable moment as Hecate’s eyes widened and she bit her lip, as if trying to keep something buttoned in.

“I’m sorry,” Pippa said quickly, “don’t feel pressured to say anything. I just—” She let out a long sigh. “The things Melissa says—it’s not what I think. I’m so sorry. I’m trying change things.”

“As I mentioned before, it is not necessary to apologise to me.” Hecate’s voice was curiously even—it sounded almost practised, to Pippa’s ear.

Pippa put her hand out as if to touch Hecate’s arm in comfort, but hesitated as Hecate flinched away. “I spoke to her after. It wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She—” Pippa broke off as her fingers closed over the torn friendship bracelet that was still on her bed, hidden in a fold of the duvet. “We’re not even friends any more because of this.”

Hecate said nothing.

“You don’t deserve to be treated that way,” Pippa murmured. “I’m on your side.”

Pippa tried to see if her words had any impact on Hecate, but she was still silent and withdrawn amidst the colourful room. 

“It looks to me like you really need a friend.”

Hecate finally made a reaction, and frowned. “I don’t need anyone—I just need to be alone.” She turned towards the door to go.

“Wait.”

At the word, Hecate stopped in her tracks, as if following an order she could not resist.

“Hecate, I think you’ve been alone for a really long time. I’m not sure dealing with—all the things you’re struggling with—on your own has made you feel any less sad.” Pippa let her words sink in for a moment. “Needing other people doesn’t make you weak. I’m not saying you should immediately let everyone in. Just—you could try staying for a while. If you want to.”

Hecate looked as though she was about to cry—Pippa wanted to wrap her arms around her and let her cry into her shoulder, but she didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. It was too soon. She watched as Hecate’s eyes fell on the plate of unfinished sandwiches on the desk.

“If you’re hungry, you can eat that. I don’t really have an appetite. And feel free to sit anywhere—the beanbag, cushions, desk—wherever you like. I’ve also got some sweets.” Pippa hadn’t known for certain that Hecate had not been at dinner, since she herself had not been—but it seemed likely, given the day’s events. She sat on her bed, picking up Pepper and putting him on her lap to settle.

Hecate cautiously perched on the edge of the chair at the desk, and put the plate on her lap. She took up one of the sandwiches and took a tiny bird-like bite out of it. Her eyes darted around, as if waiting to be told off, and Pippa averted her gaze to try to make her feel less self-conscious. She noted that Hecate was still wearing her school uniform as she adjusted her red house sash to fall neater at her side, even though it was the weekend when uniform wasn’t required unless you were in detention. Not all girls chose to wear their own clothes, to be sure—but it was uncommon, especially for girls past Third Form. Pippa wondered whether Hecate really had been in detention, like Melissa seemed to have thought.

“Thank you,” Hecate muttered.

“You’re welcome,” Pippa said warmly. 

Pippa let Hecate eat, as she stroked Pepper and leaned back into the small mountain of pillows on her bed, but tentatively broke the silence by commenting on the Botany essay lying on her bed, asking if Hecate had completed hers yet. Hecate gave a few short, wary responses. Pippa remembered she had promised sweets, and looked between the two packets on her bedside table—she honestly wasn’t sure what Hecate’s taste in sweets was like, but suspected the dark chocolate fudge would be more to her liking than the rose creams. She offered Hecate both bags, and to Pippa’s surprise, she accepted one of each.

“You can take more than one,” Pippa smiled.

Hecate politely declined. Pippa took a piece of fudge for herself, and felt the intense chocolate explode on her tongue. “So good! They’re from the village. They have a marvellous sweet shop there.”

“I don’t usually get to have sweets. These are— quite nice.” There was a smidgeon of chocolate left on her lip, which thankfully disappeared when she finished her piece of fudge. Pippa was relieved to not have to point it out to her. 

Pepper plopped off the bed to sniff at Hecate as he gradually became aware that she was there, intrigued by the familiarity about her. He had, of course, spent enough hours snuggling with Morgana to know her—but Hecate was not to know that.

“He loves cuddles,” Pippa remarked as she noticed Hecate looking interested in Pepper. “His name is Pepper.”

Hecate frowned in some kind of mental battle before she put her hand down for Pepper to investigate. When he bunted his face against her knuckles, she gently stroked his head. Pippa looked on in fascination as Hecate’s face softened in response to Pepper’s affection, and was even more amazed when Hecate leaned back to allow Pepper to jump up onto her lap. His purring weight seemed to relax her.

“What’s your favourite band?” Pippa asked somewhat impulsively, feeling that now was the best chance to try to get to know the mysterious Hecate Hardbroom a little better.

Hecate blinked at the question. “I don’t have one. I— don’t listen to much music.”

“What, never?” Pippa asked incredulously.

Hecate’s eyes shifted to the side sadly. “Not never. I just don’t get the opportunity.”

Pippa’s eyes widened in astonishment. Wordlessly, she slipped off the bed and searched through the stack of cassette tapes on her vanity, and chose one of her favourites. She flipped the case open and inserted the tape into the walkman, making sure it was wound to the beginning. She knew such Ordinary devices were not encouraged at Cackle’s, but she didn’t see the harm in them. The headphone wire dangled between her hands as she carried the walkman over to Hecate, who looked baffled by the sight of it.

“It’s a walkman,” Pippa said, handing it to Hecate. “It plays Ordinary music.”

Hecate turned it over in her hands. It was so covered in stickers—holographic, glittery, fuzzy, and puffy, and mostly related to My Little Pony—that it was barely recognisable as a walkman. 

“Do you want to hear some?”

Hecate gave a perhaps reluctant nod—but it was definite consent, and Pippa smiled in her excitement to share. She gently slipped the headphones over Hecate’s head and adjusted the sliding band to fit her. Her finger accidentally grazed one of Hecate’s ears, causing Hecate to shiver.

“Listen to this,” Pippa said, and pushed the play button until it gave a confirming click as it notched into place.

Hecate narrowed her eyes in thought as the song started. Though Pippa could only hear a slight tinny sound leaking from the headphones of the drum beat, she knew what the song sounded like from hours of listening to Kate Bush. Her face changed as the melody took hold. It was entrancing to watch—Pippa felt her heart beat harder as Hecate closed her eyes, and Pippa imagined her becoming lost in the words of the song as she had done so many times herself. Hecate looked so _vulnerable_ , more than Pippa had ever seen her before. She thought how pretty the curve of Hecate’s eyelashes was, and thought about how she would have loved to draw her if Hecate would have allowed it.

The song faded—and Hecate removed the headphones. The next song started pumping out of the ear pieces in her hands, over the gently breathing Pepper curled up in her lap.

“What do you think?” Pippa asked, reaching over and squeezing the stop button. “Do you like it?”

Hecate nodded quietly. “I do.” She raised her hand to her mouth and suppressed a yawn, and Pippa was astonished at how humanising the expression was on her usually rather grave face.

“You’re tired,” Pippa said, sensing that Hecate would be the type to politely endure discomfort for the sake of societal rules she did not quite understand. “Not that I want you to leave, but—” Pippa felt heat rising to her face. “It’s quite late.”

“It is quite late,” Hecate echoed.

“You can borrow it, if you want,” Pippa gestured to the sticker-covered walkman. “Listen to the whole album.”

“I— can’t get in trouble,” Hecate said, a bitter note edging her voice.

“That’s all right. You can come back when you want to listen to more. Or if you just wanted some company. Bring Morgana if you like—it’d be nice to have you here when she’s visiting as well.” Pippa wrung her hands together, feeling herself start to ramble nervously. 

Hecate wavered by the door. “Thank you— for encouraging me to stay.”

“It was nice to spend some time with you. And I mean it—you’re welcome back any time.” Pippa smiled shyly. “May I— hug you?”

Hecate gently inclined her head. It was so slight that Pippa might have missed it, had she not been fully absorbed in her presence.

Granted the permission she sought, Pippa approached slowly, aware at once of a strange panic that quivered inside her, just as it had done when she saw Hecate in the forest—before putting her arms around her. She could feel Hecate’s heart beating through her shirt, and her nervous body trembling. Pippa held her close—held her safe—for a few moments that she wanted to extend for much longer, but released her, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable.

Hecate was quite noticeably pink in the ears when they parted. It was an adorable look on her, Pippa thought privately, smiling to herself.

Pippa had a sudden thought. “Um— which out of the rose creams and the chocolate fudge did you prefer?”

Hecate blinked, clearly taken aback by the question. “Oh— they were both nice, but— the fudge.”

Pippa rushed back to the bed and retrieved the packet of dark chocolate fudge, and presented it to Hecate, feeling her own ears grow a bit too warm.

“But this is yours—”

Pippa shook her head. “I want you to have them.”

“Thank you. And— good night,” Hecate mumbled, the packet of fudge crinkling in her fingers.

Pippa glowed. The last time they had parted at the end of the night—when Pippa had brought her the potato—she had been the first to say good night, and Hecate had merely shut the door as a response. It was a vast improvement, and Pippa hoped it was a sign of good things to come. 

“Good night, Hecate. Sleep well.”

Pippa opened the door for her, already feeling a tinge of sadness as Hecate stepped through into the hall. She clung to the door frame as she watched Hecate’s retreat down the corridor. Her tight bun turned just as Pippa was gazing at her—she saw Hecate’s sharp features in profile for a glimpse—and then Hecate looked directly back at her. Utterly mortified, Pippa retracted her head from the corridor as quickly as she could.

She closed the door and leaned against it, trying to quiet the odd feeling in her heart. _What was it about Hecate Hardbroom?_ Pippa shook herself, and looked back at the essay on her bed, knowing there was absolutely no chance that she was going to be able to concentrate on it. She walked over to the chair Hecate had been occupying, and sat in it, unable to explain why her hands found themselves on the headphones, stroking the foam pads where they had cupped Hecate’s ears.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hecate struggles to process her developing friendship with Pippa, and spends her Sunday in quite an unexpected activity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for a panic attack

Hecate lay rigid in her bed in a mild state of panic. 

Last night—had it been real? Hecate’s heart thumped in her chest. Even in the early hours of what must be now Sunday morning, she could clearly recall the imprint of Pippa Pentangle’s arms around her, while she had stood stiffly—passively—consenting to it. It had not been _unpleasant_ ; she was certainly not used to such physical displays of affection, but it had awakened something tender in her—before she quickly squashed the thought. She could not imagine what Mistress Broomhead would think of her forming attachments like this to her classmates, especially after Hecate’s previous attempt at a friendship. She knew that Mistress Broomhead would particularly not approve of attachments with those who were as flagrantly shameless as Pippa about breaking the rules.

Everything Pippa had said had shaken her to her core—most poignantly, what she had said when Hecate had been about to leave. _“Hecate, I think you’ve been alone for a really long time. I’m not sure dealing with—all the things you’re struggling with—on your own has made you feel any less sad. Needing other people doesn’t make you weak. I’m not saying you should immediately let everyone in. Just—you could try staying for a while. If you want to.”_

Hecate felt a chill shake her, even now. Pippa had been able to see directly through her, like looking through the side of a glass flask and being able to see the strata of magic in a potion. Hecate had been convinced, ever since Indigo Moon, that it was in fact her human instinct to need someone in her life that had made her so weak. If she had not had those pathetic urges, she never would have tried to keep Indigo—to try to turn her into the perfect companion for her lonesome and grieving soul by giving her the magic in which she had always wanted to believe. Now it was Hecate’s responsibility to be stand firm and independent, and to do penance for her weakness. Yet Pippa had been able to see that from the few brief interactions they had had, and it scared Hecate to the extent that she wondered whether Pippa had cast a spell to hear her thoughts.

Hecate was torn between wanting to give into the desire to not deal with everything alone—and needing to keep herself detached. The way that Pippa Pentangle made her _feel_ was so utterly forbidden—but her apparent kindness was irresistible to Hecate, who had known very little in her years. She had been so starved for affection that even their brief parting embrace was enough to absorb her thoughts for most of the night.

Yet, for all that she had done, Pippa would never understand what Hecate had done to Indigo Moon—and she must never find out. On that point Hecate was resolved. She turned onto her side, and felt soft fur brushing against her forehead. Morgana had been curled up on her pillow by her head. The black pile of fur and limbs opened one sleepy eye, and Hecate freed her arm from the tangle of duvet to stroke her head until the slit of her eye closed again. 

Pippa seemed determined not to let her be alone, but Hecate knew that Pippa would, at some point, grow tired as Hecate would inevitably withdraw. She knew Pippa’s type—all too enthralled when it came to someone new and interesting, but as soon as that person became boring, she would already be turning her head to the next new and interesting thing. She suspected that Pippa saw her as a kind of ‘project’, or perhaps a challenge, to see if she could change her from freak to chic. In the chance that Hecate was willing to ‘stay’ awhile, as Pippa had proposed, and try perhaps to open up, Pippa would have to be equally willing to wait a long time indeed.

Yet—did she really know Pippa? The kind of person Hecate thought Pippa was did not align with the Pippa she had seen last night. The portrait in Hecate’s head of the Queen of the Fourth Year had been far from charitable—a pretty girl in pink, shallow, the epitome of ‘cool’, who would sooner insult those beneath her socially than speak to them, and did so from the ranks of an impenetrable coven of perfect clones. To say the dramatic shift in perspective was confusing was an understatement. Perhaps Pippa was only going to act in this bafflingly beneficent way to her behind closed doors, or until she got whatever she wanted.

Yet, unbidden, Pippa’s gentle voice drifted back to her. _“Not that I want you to leave, but—”_ What had that meant? Surely Pippa had simply being polite, kind— but— Hecate bit her lip. Pippa ‘just being polite’ was sounding less and less convincing, the more she thought about it. It had not felt duplicitous—it had even sounded a little _desperate_. When she had looked back down the corridor—Pippa had been _watching_ her—but without the usual stifled smirk behind a hand that Hecate was used to seeing when she happened to notice someone watching her.

Perhaps Pippa’s desperation had its roots in the fact that she and Melissa Midgley had had a falling out over her. Hecate was worried—if she and Pippa should become—she did not want to presuppose a friendship, but _friendly_ —would this further anger Melissa? She hardly wanted to cause more grief for Pippa. Hecate had managed to make a friend before—but that had gone far from well. The circumstances were different, but the fear that something would go catastrophically wrong was still there.

She reached out to her bedside table where the crinkly packet of dark chocolate fudge was. Yes—yesterday had definitely been real. Now she just had to work out how she was going to face today.

* * *

Hecate glided down the stairs towards the Great Hall, eyes stinging with tiredness. She had not been able to return to sleep, and instead spent an age making sure the creases in her shirt sleeves were perfectly aligned, using a clothing pressing spell. She did not touch the handrail—her hands were tense at her sides, and shoulders angular and squared as she descended into the main corridor and around past a group of slow-walking girls in front of her.

After queueing for a bowl of gluey porridge, Hecate was about to sit with a very safe amount of space between herself and anyone else—when she saw a blur of pink motioning in her direction from further along the table.

Pink could only really mean one person, being the signature colour of one Pippa Pentangle. She wore a bright cardigan over her drab grey uniform—and it was curious indeed that she was in uniform rather than in her own clothes.

“Come and sit with us,” Pippa called over to her.

Hecate glanced around herself self-consciously. Pippa had to be speaking to someone else around her—but there was no one in her eyeline she could have been referring to, other than herself. Still, Hecate pointed an uneasy finger to her own chest in disbelief. Pippa nodded eagerly, beckoning enthusiastically. Hecate did not want to appear rude or to cause a scene in front of those already present at breakfast, so she took a few quiet steps over to where Pippa was seated with her friends. She felt the whispers radiate out across the hall upon her broaching of this unspoken social boundary as she went. People like Pippa Pentangle simply did not mix with the likes of Hecate Hardbroom. 

Pippa scooted over to make space for Hecate next to her, opposite the two faces of Tammy Doddington and Brenda King. The cutlery and crockery on her tray clunked inelegantly as she set it down. Hecate kept her hands tight in her lap, shrinking back in deference—and her eyes firmly focusing on the woodgrain of the table.

“You don’t have to sit on your own any more,” Pippa said kindly. 

Hecate felt a hand touch her back gently, and flinched before she could control it. She murmured a “thank you,” and wondered if it would be impolite to begin eating or whether she had to try to make some kind of conversation. Hecate did not like to eat in front of others, however—the act of eating was rather personal for her, and it was not something she felt comfortable sharing with an audience. However, the porridge was edible if it was still hot when one ate it, but turned to cement if left to cool—with a quaking hand, Hecate picked up her spoon.

“Oh— you can’t eat the porridge plain,” Pippa said, and drew out a glass jar from her voluminous cardigan pocket. She unscrewed the lid and dolloped a few teaspoons of syrupy ruby-red jam over the grey sludge in Hecate’s bowl, to Hecate’s alarm. “You’ve got to try this. Just stir it in. It makes the porridge taste like a bakewell tart.”

Hecate inserted her spoon into the mixture, doubt pursing her lips together, and stirred. She hesitated as the bland porridge melded with the jam and started to turn a distinctly pink shade, wondering if she would even like it with the addition—but seemingly she had no choice on the matter now, and resigned herself to trying it.

Pippa’s friends were looking between Hecate and Pippa with quiet surprise, and Hecate could tell that they were wordlessly trying to ask her something—perhaps how long they had to endure the presence of someone so _weird_ and reserved.

Hecate could not see Pippa’s response to their looks from her position, but heard as Pippa told her, “This is Tammy and Brenda, by the way.”

Tammy and Brenda both awkwardly stumbled over a “Hello,” and “Well met,” at the same time as each other, then they started apologising to each other for the blunder.

Hecate returned a stiff “Well met,” of her own while they were still preoccupied with each other. They clearly did not want her here—Hecate knew that as soon as she was gone, they would tell Pippa about what an awful mistake she was making. She took the opportunity of their present distraction, however, to take a little of the pink porridge onto the edge of her spoon and bring it up to her lips. 

The flavour was not unlike that of the cherry and almond of the bakewell tarts that were occasionally served as a pudding in stodgy squares—but far sweeter and bursting with flavour that Hecate presumed must be the doing of some careful potions work. The texture had become slightly looser than the usual gloopy porridge, which made it slightly more pleasant to eat.

“Do you like it?” asked Pippa, who clearly had been paying attention to Hecate, even though Tammy and Brenda seemed to be off in their own world.

Hecate paused before answering, taking a breath into her lungs and letting it out. She could feel Pippa’s anticipation of her answer keenly and it was causing her some anxiety. “The morning porridge has never tasted so delicious,” she responded, her voice shaking.

Pippa clapped her hands together in delight. Hecate tensed at the sharp sound—and as she fought down a flashback, the spoon dropped from her hand, clattering on the edge of the table, and then left a splatter of pink porridge down her pristine black pinafore.

Further down the long table, Hecate suddenly saw Melissa Midgley and Valerie Holmwood exchanging conspiratorial looks and speaking behind their hands. When they saw Hecate’s pink porridge predicament, they started howling with laughter, which echoed around the room as more people saw the mess that she had made of herself.

“Oh— sorry! I didn’t mean to— let me help clean you up—”

Hecate had already got to her feet, however, face hot with embarrassment and another feeling she could not put a name to. Brenda and Tammy looked up at her with matching confused expressions. She had to leave—this was ludicrous. How could she have thought for a moment that she was worthy to sit with Pippa Pentangle? She transferred to her bed chambers—just as an outstretched hand clasped onto her wrist. 

As the whirling particles of her body began to coalesce, Hecate saw through her fizzing vision the bright pink of Pippa’s cardigan, and a high blonde ponytail and fringe drawing together before her, and finally forming the concerned face of Pippa Pentangle.

“Hecate—!”

Hecate wrenched her hand away, tears suddenly springing up in her eyes as the panic ascended up from her chest into her shoulders and neck.

“Why did you—?!” Hecate spat out in anger.

Pippa paled. “It— it was just instinct. I— I’m sorry.”

Hecate turned away, and stormed over to the window. The octagonal room was too small—too cramped to contain her emotions _and_ Pippa Pentangle. She felt maddened—she did not know why exactly, but she wanted to run and scream out and throw something and break down all at the same time. In an attempt at trampling down her magic within her to stop it from from boiling up and out of her, her feet carried her back and forth across the room—she found her hands balled up in front of her, shaking involuntarily—her breath, laboured and painful, came in short starts.

Before she knew what was happening, two arms latched around her from behind—Pippa had pinned her into a tight hug. Hecate struggled against the secure grip that Pippa had around her, but it remained unyielding—and light sounds of hushing came from about shoulder height. Her heart felt like it was hammering against arms of Pippa’s big pink cardigan.

“I’m not leaving you alone,” Pippa whispered. “You’re safe here.”

Fighting against Pippa was useless—for short though she was, Pippa was much stronger than Hecate. The whispers and shushing and the tight, warm feeling closing around her all began to work their magic—Hecate felt her body loosen and give into the embrace surrounding her. The cardigan was soft, and Pippa’s form solid and grounding behind her. Her tears broke through at last, and she felt her chest heave with each sob as she broke down. Pippa turned her around, and Hecate let herself be held as she cried. Gradually, Hecate felt her breathing return to normal as her tears subsided, but as it did, her body started to shiver all over.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m cold,” Hecate mumbled in a small voice.

The warmth around her retracted momentarily as Pippa shrugged out of her cardigan and wrapped it around Hecate, helping her arms into the sleeves. The cardigan swamped her completely in a hazy warmth, and she could feel how the wool had shaped itself over time to the bend of Pippa’s elbows. It smelled comfortingly of Pippa’s room.

Hecate did not resist as Pippa guided her to the bed and sat down with her, holding her close and taking her hands. The glow of a warmth spell shone between Pippa’s fingers as she stroked them over Hecate’s hands, before she delicately wiped away Hecate’s tears, her thumb brushing against side of Hecate’s nose.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Hecate searched inside herself, but she could not find the words. All she knew was that Pippa’s hand was still cupping her face. She shook her head.

“You had a panic attack,” Pippa said gently.

Hecate turned away in shame, and Pippa’s hand slipped down to her shoulder. Through the chunky knit of the cardigan, Hecate could feel that hand against her bones. Her eyes darted across the floorboards, trying to find a comforting pattern and failing. “I don’t remember— it just— everything—”

Pippa waited until Hecate had lost all sense of words, before offering, “It was too much and too fast. There were lots of people around, and it was overwhelming. Does that sound right?”

“I don’t think you should be seen with me,” Hecate blurted out. “I’m— not— you shouldn’t.”

“I can’t very well be your friend if I ignore you around school,” Pippa returned.

_Friend_. Hecate thought back to the early hours of that morning when she had thought on what Pippa’s intentions had been, and found this made the matter no more illuminating. She avoided Pippa’s gaze.

Pippa gestured over Hecate’s pinafore and the pink porridge vanished. A tightness Hecate had not known she was still holding inside her unravelled.

The tip of Morgana’s tail coiling around Pippa’s leg caught Hecate’s eye. Morgana had crept out from underneath the bed, and now hopped up onto the bed to settle in Hecate’s lap. The cat nosed the unfamiliar—or perhaps familiar, since she had visited Pippa’s dormitory enough times—cardigan that Hecate was still wearing. Hecate stroked Morgana’s head softly.

“What are you doing today?”

Pippa’s question caught Hecate off-guard, and she paused with her hand in Morgana’s fur. She considered the vast quantity of work she had left to do, including a Chanting essay for Miss Bat. “I— have a lot of homework.”

There was a tingle of nerves in her hand as Pippa put hers over it, atop Morgana’s back. Although contact usually made her feel unsettled and defensive, she was so exhausted after her panic attack—or whatever it had been—that she did not react.

“Maybe I could help you with some of it,” Pippa suggested. “But I think you need some time to escape from here. I’ve got one of the chanting rooms booked for a rehearsal with my coven. Only Brenda and Tammy are going to be there, so we’re just going to work on their duet and some solos. We might take a look our ensemble piece so it can fit three voices instead of five. Anyway, it’s going to be relatively quiet, if you want to bring a book and Morgana and have a change of scenery?”

Hecate wondered if it would be a wise decision to go. Her first instinct was to barricade herself in her room as soon Pippa left; while she felt a bond with Pippa over helping her through her panic attack, she also felt mortified that she had needed help at all, and that Pippa Pentangle had seen her in that state where she had lost control.

“I don’t want to leave you when you’re so vulnerable, but I’ve already booked the room for my coven and we do have to practice. But it’s up to you—I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed or pressured.”

Hecate flicked her eyes up to Pippa, who looked earnest. She weighed up whether it could be beneficial to have a change of scenery, as Pippa had put it. Perhaps it would provide some time to examine her essay from a different angle. “Maybe I could spare half an hour,” Hecate said, still a little uneasy.

Pippa glowed at this and squeezed Hecate’s hand, and the sight of her looking so pleased lifted Hecate’s spirits by a degree.

She looked around herself, as if she was looking for something—but of course, she had left everything behind at breakfast when she had jumped Hecate’s transfer. “I just need to talk to Brenda and Tammy to let them know about chanting practice,” she said. “I won’t be long—I’ll just transfer there and back, and then we can make our way to the chanting room from here. All right?”

Hecate nodded, and watched Pippa dissipate before her eyes. Strangely, she found a sense of herself scattering as the last elements of Pippa were lost on the air, leaving her alone in her room with Morgana.

* * *

Pippa was a little longer than she had made out, and Hecate began to feel anxious again without her presence. The way that a part of herself needed Pippa to return worried her—this dependence was very unlike her. She tried not to imagine what Mistress Broomhead would think of it. This was hardly the way a witch should behave. She sat perched on her bed, absent-mindedly squeezing handfuls of Pippa’s pink cardigan that hung off her arms as she waited, fighting against her need—or was it Mistress Broomhead that she wanted to defy?

Hecate had already packed her bag with a library book, and Morgana was sitting by her, ready to go when needed. She did not think they would get any real training done in half an hour, but Hecate was aware that she was more bringing her familiar for moral support than for work. Knowing Morgana was close by could be quite soothing. Hecate only hoped that Morgana would not take this as an invitation to add her voice to those practising.

A knock came at the door. Hecate answered it—to see Pippa, her school bag slung over her shoulder casually, with an easy smile on her face. Hecate felt as though she had dropped an entire armful of books. “Ready?” 

“R—ready,” Hecate stammered. “I mean— I am.”

Hecate dashed back to her bed, and picked up her satchel. The strap tangled over her limbs as she put it over her head, and it was only then that she realised she was still wearing Pippa’s cardigan. Pippa had made no comment about it, so she supposed she was permitted to continue wearing it. Morgana hopped up onto her shoulders and settled around her neck.

As soon as they passed into the corridor, however, Hecate regretted not removing the cardigan—for she realised that the bright pink next to the dark uniform Pippa was wearing made her incredibly conspicuous. They crossed paths with several students, all of whom stared blankly at Hecate. Hecate, who normally blended into the shadows, now was the object of attention—rather than Pippa, whom they hardly noticed. As they proceeded through the narrow stone corridors, Hecate realised how much bravery it took to wear pink in a school whose building was a draughty castle, and had a uniform mostly consisting of black and grey. It was an excess of self-assertion that Hecate could never imagine daring to express. Even with plenty of girls wearing bright colours, pink seemed to be the colour that drew the eye most of all—or perhaps it was simply the sight of Hecate Hardbroom in pink that was making them all stare. 

Hecate shuffled into one of the chanting rooms behind Pippa, keeping her head low and non-threatening, in the way she was used to carrying herself around her betters—and particularly since she was wearing Pippa’s cardigan. She looked on as Pippa, ahead of her threw her arms around Tammy and Brenda, who had already arrived, and kissed them each on the cheek, even though they had only just parted at breakfast, and muttered something to each that Hecate could not hear. Hecate did not make eye contact with Tammy or Brenda as she passed them by, and they graciously did not expect a hug from her. 

Hecate felt a blush rising to her own cheeks as she wondered what to would be like to feel Pippa Pentangle’s lips on her skin. A sinking feeling washed over her—she was horribly out of her depth when it came to interpersonal interactions with her peers. She would never be able to so easily express emotion like that towards a friend, were she to have one—with a hug, let alone a kiss. Pippa would certainly never feel that way towards her. She and her coven had been together since their first year, and had more than three years of close-knit friendship behind them. Hecate was practically a stranger to her. 

The chanting room was arranged in the usual classroom formation, with a grid of single desks, and the piano at the front. A disorderly array of instruments were haphazardly stored about the room—some on shelves, some in their cases, and others scurrying around loose, gathering dust and cobwebs. Miss Bat did not keep a sensibly-arranged classroom at the best of times. Bookcases were stuffed with music manuscripts wedged in at all angles—some in coloured card folios, and others as loose, crinkled sheets. Miss Bat’s spidery handwriting could be seen atop cramped staves, titled with traditional and folk chants.

Tammy and Brenda started to set up at the front, going through Pippa’s folder for the music. Pippa approached Hecate, who was standing awkwardly off to one side, and put a hand gently on her arm.

“Are you all right?” Pippa asked, her voice soft.

“I’m sorry—I realised as we were walking over that I’m still wearing your cardigan,” Hecate mumbled.

“I know you are,” Pippa responded, low enough that Tammy and Brenda could not hear, with a smile curling her lip. “It looks cute on you.”

“Oh.” Hecate swallowed. She was not sure of the correct response to this comment—and tried not to analyse what it could mean.

Pippa smoothed a wrinkle out of the fabric over Hecate’s shoulder. “You can keep wearing it if you’re still cold.”

Hecate thought she might pass out from the amount of physical contact she was having with Pippa, but tried to focus on what she was saying. It was quite cool in the classroom, and the gap underneath the door was creating a through-draught in collaboration with the arrow slit windows—even though she was used to sitting in cold rooms, the cardigan would be welcome. “What about you? Won’t you get cold?”

“I’m fine,” Pippa replied with a shrug. She drew out an ordinary wooden chair from one of the desks and, with a flick of her finger, summoned a dark violet cushion to soften the seat. “Why don’t you sit here?”

Morgana leapt down onto the chair from Hecate’s shoulders and started padding her paws into the cushion, before curling up and putting her head on her paws.

“Oh!” Pippa giggled. “Looks like Morgana beat you to it. I’ll get you another—”

“That’s all right,” Hecate said hastily. “I don’t need one.”

“Are you sure? There’s nothing else I can get for you?” Pippa clasped her hands together before her in an oddly meek manner and twisted her mouth. 

“Quite sure,” Hecate responded, unsure what to make of how extraordinarily hospitable Pippa was being. The attention was making her feel suspicious.

Pippa gave a shrug and retreated to the front of the room to rejoin her friends. Hecate sat on a neighbouring seat to Morgana, retrieved her book, _Mastering the Craft: Familiar Focus_ , and began to try to start reading. Hecate was well used to tuning out speaking voices, as she often did so to focus when she knew she was being ridiculed.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hecate noticed Pippa sit herself at the piano, and a single note rang out as she pressed it—and then, a pure, resounding sound as Pippa sang it. Hecate felt her heart jump into her throat as she heard her voice like liquid gold upon the air—before her hands stretched to begin playing an arpeggios, accompanying the two girls standing by the piano and herself—while Hecate could only hear her slipping perfectly between each note, her smile audible in her light, effortless tone.

Hecate’s diaphragm responded to the change in key as Pippa played up a step each time, as though she were part of the warm-up, but she had to keep silent. Of course, Pippa had heard her sing in their chanting lessons, and in other lessons when there had been a chanted element—but she was horribly self-conscious outside of the context of being in a classroom with a teacher present. The taut feeling in her stomach had everything to do with a natural inclination to follow along with them as they sang, and nothing at all to do with how gorgeous she found Pippa’s voice.

When Pippa opened out a leaf of music and arranged it on the piano before her, Hecate realised that she had never heard Pippa play the piano properly before, nor even realised she could play—of course, playing arpeggios was one thing, but being able to accompany and sing along was quite another. She found her eyes meandering from the text in front of her, and discreetly watched Pippa in profile as she began playing an unfamiliar popular piece. Tammy and Brenda knew it well, since they sang along with great enthusiasm. Hecate was not sure if it was a part of the warm-up or whether it was one of the songs that Pippa’s coven was to sing.

Pippa stopped playing, and looked over her shoulder to Brenda and Tammy. “Okay, ready for your duet?”

“Of course!” Tammy said brightly.

Brenda was marginally more wary. “Oh— I thought we were gonna do— never mind. Sure, let’s do the duet.” 

Pippa launched into a popular, upbeat tune. It was not often that Hecate heard her classmates’ voices in isolation from each other—and admittedly, Hecate had never paid much attention to the qualities of either Tammy or Brenda’s voices. Brenda had a warm tone, while Tammy’s was light and breathier—they complimented each other well, and Hecate could appreciate why they had chosen the parts that they had in this particular piece. Brenda seemed nervous—which seemed out of character for her—while Tammy was serene, smiling sweetly as she took the higher line. The chant began to illuminate a narrative in glowing shapes before them, at which point Hecate realised she had been watching, and returned to her book.

They came to the end of the sing-through, and Pippa turned on her stool to give them tips. Pippa had an authoritative and knowledgeable quality to her advice that surprised Hecate—she administered criticism gently and encouraged each to bring out the best of her voice. Hecate had barely advanced a single page in her book, and found herself turning a page without knowing what she had just read—for she was trying desperately hard not to visibly notice as Pippa glanced over in her direction.

They sang through the duet a few more times, with Pippa joining them on the odd line, giving direction for the dynamics. As Hecate became marginally more accustomed to the music being part of the background noise, they moved onto Tammy and Brenda’s solos. Morgana on her special Pippa-summoned cushion slept soundly, without so much as a twitch of an ear. Hecate almost found it quite relaxing to have some form of distraction that cut through the inner negative voices that tended to crowd her concentration when she was alone. Occasionally the odd moment arose where Pippa’s voice brought all the sound to the forefront of her mind again, and she would have to try to push it back. Hecate wished she could be as nonchalant as Morgana.

Two things dawned on Hecate when she noticed Pippa switch places with Tammy—that Pippa was about to sing a solo piece, and that she had overstayed her ‘half an hour’. She had chosen that moment to look in the direction of the wall clock—just in time to accidentally catch Pippa’s eye as she adjusted her posture next to the piano and smiled at Hecate across the room. Hecate felt her throat close up as she realised that she could hardly leave now, and would have to stay at least until the end of Pippa’s solo for the sake of courtesy to her, since she had done so much to help her that day.

If Hecate had been expecting something bright and cheerful, she was to be disappointed—from the first few doleful notes of the piano keys, Hecate’s heart faltered—and when Pippa began to sing, it was the most heartbreaking sound Hecate could imagine. She had been bracing herself for Pippa’s exuberance, but could never have prepared herself for her sorrow. Hecate felt as though she were witness to a private moment that she ought not to see. She buried her face in her book again, trying to hide how Pippa’s singing was making her blush. The words found their way into Hecate’s thoughts as she bit her lip against the beautiful sound assaulting her. 

Mercifully, the song drew to a close—and Hecate could breathe again. She let out the tension in her shoulders as the piano fell silent, and only low spoken voices could be heard, as Pippa asked the others their opinions on her piece and where she could improve. Brenda and Tammy were letting out streams of compliments—Hecate knew she was not part of the conversation, and that Pippa would not want to hear what she had to say. After all, she was not in Pippa’s coven, and was sure that her thoughts did not matter. Hecate turned another page of her book, even though her mind had not been on the words for some time—if it ever had been at all. 

Pippa, Tammy, and Brenda started discussing their ensemble piece, and Hecate realised she was safe from giving her opinion on Pippa’s performance. Still, she did not want to draw attention to herself by leaving just yet. She looked at whatever page of _Mastering the Craft_ she had turned to, and read from the top line— _…theoretical advantages that, upon further investigation, allow a witch to access higher degrees of accuracy and efficiency; moreover, a familiar, when applied in such a manner as to…_

“Hecate,” Pippa suddenly raised her voice across the room.

Hecate started and snapped her book shut in surprise. “I’m sorry—”

Pippa approached with a sheet in her hands. “Hecate, I’m not telling you off. I just had this thought—” she put on the desk in front of her the piece of paper she was holding, which was a piece of music covered in pink highlighter. “Could you sing along with this part? I think that should suit your voice type. You’re an alto, aren’t you?”

Hecate blushed. She was not sure if she could refuse or not. It was well past the half hour that she had said was the limit she would stay by now. _Mastering the Craft_ ’s worn cover looked up at her expectantly. “I— I don’t know if I should.”

“You don’t have to,” Pippa responded kindly. “But it might be worth a try—just for fun. And if you end up joining us for the House Chanting Competition, you’ll earn an extra house point for participating in the category.”

“I suppose I could try,” Hecate said, sounding a lot more confident than she felt. She suddenly wondered if Pippa inviting her to her coven’s chanting practice had been all a plan to get her to fill the place that Melissa and, presumably, Valerie, had made when they left the coven.

“Will you? Oh, wonderful!”

Hecate got shakily to her feet, and abandoned the book on the desk. 

She stood beside Tammy and Brenda, feeling very tall and ungainly, and looked at the music with hesitation. Pippa took up her seat on the piano, and counted them in. They all started burst into song as soon as the jazzy piano started up—all except Hecate, who had frozen in fear—for she had no idea how the tune was supposed to go. It was evidently a popular piece, and one that Pippa’s coven had been practising for months—and Hecate had never even heard it before. 

Pippa got a few bars in before she took her hands off the keys, and the abrupt halting of the melody caused Tammy and Brenda to trail off at different times.

She looked over her shoulder at Hecate. “Hecate, you really don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I won’t be upset.”

Hecate bit her lip, and felt a pricking of tears in her eyes. This could not happen again today. “No— I admit I do not know the song.” 

“ _Oh_ , that was silly of me to not show you how it goes!”

“Who doesn’t know _Cats at Midnight_? From The Thirteenth Hour?” Brenda asked incredulously.

Pippa fixed Brenda with a look. “Not everyone is a musical fan. Tammy, switch places with Hecate. You can take a break if you like. We’ll go over her part slowly, and then I’ll sing the alto part with her until she’s got it. All right?”

Tammy seemed all too happy to sit out—she would not have much to do, as a soprano, while Pippa worked with Hecate—and hopped up onto one of the desks and swung her legs idly.

Hecate came around to Pippa’s left hand side, and tried to stand in what she hoped was a normal-looking way. Pippa beckoned her a little nearer, and she shuffled closer to the piano. Her knee was almost grazing the velvet of the piano stool, and she held the shivering paper before her, with both hands emerging from the baggy sleeves of the cardigan to steady it. 

“Okay, I’ll sing your part all the way through, and then we’ll go line by line.”

Hecate steeled herself for the sound of Pippa’s voice again, and resolved to follow the notation on the page, with her part marked in pink. Pippa began to sing out the alto melody, and the honeyed sweetness of her voice took on a warmer and even more comforting weight as she hit the lower notes against the jazzy piano accompaniment. This close, Hecate could see Pippa’s fingers dance across the keys and the swaying of her body in her seat as she leaned into the movement of the song. It was mesmerising.

When it came to Hecate’s turn to sing back phrases to Pippa, Hecate thought the room would swallow her up. Her mouth was so dry that her voice cracked in her throat as she attempted to sing the first phrase, and the sound of it in the room on its own confirmed to her that she ought to bow out and quietly tell Pippa later that singing with them in the House Chanting Competition would be too much for her. She knew that her voice was colourless and flat compared to all three of the Pink Sisters, particularly when singing such a lively song—but Pippa smiled encouragingly and told her that she was doing well. 

Once they had gone through the entire song, now that it was more familiar in her mind, Hecate focused on trying to replicate it as best as she could. Pippa singing the alto part along with her helped her not to be too distracted by the other parts of the harmony, and she managed to project with more power when she realised how the parts fitted together.

“Gotta say, Pip, that sounds so much better than with just the three of us would,” Tammy said.

“I knew it would.” Pippa smiled, flicking her eyes back towards Hecate. “Hecate has a beautiful voice.”

Without warning, Morgana suddenly jerked awake—her fur all stood on end and her ears turned back. Just as Hecate was about to refute Pippa’s comment, a loud knocking rapped on the door. Hecate’s heart rate spiked—she somehow knew that being found in here with Pippa’s coven could never be good. Her fingers curled tightly around the cardigan’s sleeve cuffs as she drew them protectively over her hands. Morgana’s alertness made her want to hide—but she could not see a sensible place to do so, and did not want to embarrass herself if it was only Miss Bat or another teacher.

Immediately, Tammy’s eyes widened and looked to Pippa. “Does Melissa know we’re here?”

“We booked the room in advance when she was still friends with us, but I doubt she’d actually turn up,” Pippa said slowly, biting her lip uneasily. “I’ll check.”

Yet, before Pippa could get to the door—it burst open, narrowly missing cracking Pippa in the face. Melissa, her expression menacing, marched straight past her into the room. Morgana’s back curved into a loop and she hissed in fear.

“So you’re still doing the House Chanting Competition? With just three of you?”

“This is a _coven_ rehearsal, Melissa,” Brenda interjected, her voice suddenly threatening. “Last time I checked, you weren’t in this coven.”

“Oh, really?” Melissa sneered, and them pointed to Hecate accusingly, who backed away from the others. “Then what’s _she_ doing here? Last time _I_ checked, _she_ wasn’t in this coven, either.”

Pippa put her hands on her hips, and squared up to Melissa. “Things change. Hecate is the newest member of the Pink Sisters, since there was a vacancy. Don’t you see the pink cardigan?”

Hecate’s eyes widened in disbelief, although she quickly realised that Pippa was only covering for her being there. She knew very well that Pippa didn’t need any more singers in her ensemble to win the House Chanting Competition. And as far as the Pink Sisters went, of course Hecate could not join—Mistress Broomhead would never allow it. Seeing the diminutive Pippa posturing on her behalf, however, was quite touching, even if Hecate did feel physically sick with anxiety. 

“So, you gonna stand around and catch flies all day, or are you gonna leave us in peace?” Brenda quipped at Melissa, whose mouth was hanging slightly open in shock. 

“I think I’ll leave for my _own_ sake. I can’t stand the smell of losers.” 

With that erudite comment, Melissa stalked out, slamming the door shut behind her. Morgana growled at the door.

“She’s really angry,” Tammy said with a slight whimper.

Hecate’s knuckles tightened, as Morgana slunk off to watch everything from the shadowy void underneath a bookcase. She did not want Pippa to be in trouble with Melissa because of her—and did not want to be the cause of strife within her coven.

“Wonder where Valerie is,” Brenda commented, clearly less shaken by the intrusion than Tammy. “Do you think she’s got sick of her?”

Pippa sighed. “I really thought Valerie could change her mind, instead of joining her.”

“Melissa can be awfully persuasive,” Tammy winced. “She’s the last person I’d want to be on the wrong side of— but of course there’s no other option at the moment.”

Hecate shuffled uncomfortably. She felt deeply regretful that she was the reason for all this upset, and could definitely see another option that the Pink Sisters could have taken. She had completely ruined the chanting practice—even before Melissa had turned up, she had taken up valuable time by making Pippa go over the song with her in detail.

“Why don’t the two of you see if you can find Valerie, while Melissa isn’t with her?” Pippa suggested. “I’ll clear up here. It was a good session before Melissa barged in.”

Tammy and Brenda left, parting with promises to meet up later. As Hecate made to gather her things together, Pippa crossed over to her and put her hand on her arm.

“Hecate,” Pippa said, with a trace of something like sadness in her voice. “Wait. There’s something I want to ask you.”

Hecate nodded her head in obeisance to Pippa’s request. It was the least she could do for ruining the practice session. She anticipated what was coming—that she caused more problems than she was worth, and that Pippa would rather she stayed away, to spare them all the trouble of Melissa.

“Do you— do you want to join my coven? I’ve actually already asked Brenda and Tammy, this morning—to see what they thought of the idea. Neither of them had any objections.”

“Oh.” Hecate had not been expecting that at all. “You don’t have to—”

Pippa shook her head. “I _want_ you to be in my coven. But if it’s too much, I understand.”

Hecate was torn. She really wanted to be able to spend more time with Pippa. Pippa’s charisma and kindness felt soft against her neglected heart, and gave her permission to simply exist. But then, on the other hand—there was Mistress Broomhead and her rules. Hecate could almost sense her looming from the shadows, listening to every feeling she thought. Could Hecate ever properly be a part of any coven? She was already taking enough of a risk in just being Pippa’s friend, in all honesty—and dreaded next week’s session with Mistress Broomhead. She swore that woman could read her mind.

But it was reckless—foolish. Hecate knew that, and it was with bitterness that she admitted, “I’m not sure I’ll have the time to commit fully,” and stared down at the stone floor between them.

Pippa’s hand moved in the edge of her vision, starting to reach out for Hecate’s hand, and then retracting, as if she thought better of it. “Why don’t we start off slowly and see how it goes? You don’t have to make a decision right now.”

Hecate looked up into Pippa’s eyes. The tawny speckles in her warm brown eyes were like glimmers of hope. It was impossible to refuse. “All right,” Hecate murmured. “I can— give it a go.”

Hecate could tell as a delighted smile spread across Pippa’s face that she was attempting to hold back some of her excitement threatening to burst out of her—but then almost fell over as Pippa flung her arms around her in a hug.

“Oh— broomsticks!” Hecate heard Pippa chastising herself from around Hecate’s shoulder-height. “I’m sorry— I didn’t ask if it was okay to—”

Hecate felt herself relax into the hug. She needed to believe that there was some comfort to be had in the world. “It’s all right,” she said in a small voice.

Pippa’s thumb made a small stroke across her back. Hecate was reluctant as she felt her withdraw. 

“I’ll— I should let you go now. I’ve taken up a lot of your time,” Pippa murmured, tucking a stray hair behind her own ear.

“It was time well spent,” Hecate said. Although she had been anxiously pretending to read for much of the session, the opportunity to chant with some of the best singers in her year had in hindsight really been quite pleasant, if nerve-wracking. Even if that was to be the last time she sang with them, it had taught her a few things about making her chanting more expressive. Perhaps she would wait on her decision about singing with them in the House Chanting Competition.

“I can walk you back to your room?” Pippa asked as Hecate scooped an emerging Morgana up into her arms.

Thinking that that could easily turn into inviting Pippa in, and talking more, and setting back more of her study schedule—Hecate knew she had to decline. Tempting though it was— “I think I should really—”

“—You’re right,” Pippa interjected, swirling her hand to gather all the loose piece of music back into her folder, and they undulated through the air like paper birds. “I’m sure we both have things we should be getting on with.”

Hecate lingered while Pippa wedged her folder into her bag, unsure whether Pippa would prefer if she just left now. She cuddled Morgana tightly to her chest.

“Oh— would you like your cardigan back?” Hecate asked. 

Since Hecate’s hands were full of Morgana’s soft black form, Pippa opened the heavy wooden door out to the corridor and gestured Hecate through.

Pippa gave a coy smile as Hecate passed her. “It can keep you warm for me.”

Hecate faltered in her tracks, and wondered if she had heard that last part correctly. Surely she did not mean—?

“Well, I’m going this way,” Pippa said breezily, before Hecate had fully processed what she had said, and evidently unaware of the effect that her words had had on Hecate. 

Before Pippa could advance down the corridor, Hecate stuttered out, “Th—thank you. For today. You— helped me, even though I was being difficult.”

Pippa turned back and shook her head. “You weren’t difficult at all. I just did want anyone would do for a friend—and that’s how I think of you.”

_Friend_ —there was that word again. Her stomach flipped. Many times, she had been told that she was _difficult_ when she did not behave perfectly, so hearing that Pippa did not find her difficult—that she wanted to help her because she was her _friend_ —Hecate struggled to comprehend it all. Her mind was bubbling over in confusion.

Pippa reached towards Morgana in Hecate’s arms, and tickled her behind the ear. “I’ll come around to check in on you later, and bring you something,” she said, and lowered her head to plant a kiss on Morgana’s tiny head.

“Thank you again. I— appreciate it,” she finished rather feebly.

Pippa smiled mischievously. “I was talking to Morgana, but maybe I’ll bring you a little treat, too.”

While Hecate was still standing bewildered and rigid, Pippa winked and swept off. Her ponytail swished as she proceeded down the corridor, leaving Hecate alone, clutching her cat. Hecate did not know if she would ever understand Pippa Pentangle, but felt a candle of hope flicker in her heart that she was being given the opportunity to try.


End file.
